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It was truly remarkable how you hadn't noticed yet. Ifan had easily noticed that you were brazen, not easily swayed, some would even say brave- but you clearly also only had one goal in mind and forgot about everything else.
"What's this arena you ladies are talking about?" you smile at them, winking- you're trying to steal glances at the elf's cage so you can figure out how to free him- and one of them is clearly flustered.
"The Arena of the One. Only real fighters go there."
"Believe me, we are very real fighters," you smirk, looking back at Ifan, who snorts.
Weird.
"We are. Can you excuse me and my friend for a bit?" Ifan asks, pulling you to the side- there's not really any place to have a private discussion in Fort Joy and you can see some guards staring at you.
"You truly haven't noticed what's going on?" he asks- you don't quite know how to judge it considering you've only known him for a good day, but you made up your mind to believe he is not an asshole and must be saying something meaningful.
"Ifan, we are in a prison. It's not that weird to have a fighting pit-"
He pulls you a bit further into the brush.
"Look down."
You raise an eyebrow at his gravelly voice and stern command- but you look down anyway. Promptly noting that besides your pretty badass boots you found, your legs are bare- there's only the sliver of underwear from on the ship remaining.
"Ah," you mutter, turning to see if your shirt covers your behind properly.
It doesn't.
"You've been walking around like this since trading some stolen goods," Ifan is smirking- the twinkle in his eye is telling you he's clearly enjoying this. He doesn't hide the fact that he's enjoying the view, either.
"And you didn't tell me?" you ask- pouting a little, but also a little angry. There goes your credibility.
"I figured you would notice."
"Well, you figured wrong, didn't you?" you snarkily whisper, rummaging through your backpack. Surely, you wouldn't have sold all your pants? Even a simple piece of fabric would do for now.
"You truly didn't notice the wind hitting your skin?"
He's enjoying this- he always seems to enjoy things like this, you've noticed, because despite his rugged exterior he is actually a pretty funny guy- leaning back against a tree and not making any move to help you out.
"I thought it was just pretty cold outside. I've got other things to worry about than the wind. We're locked up in Fort Joy, for Divine's sake."
"I am sure the Magisters were contemplating keeping you further confined by the way you confidentally strolled past them with your bare legs."
You can't help the slight redness of your cheeks now- how many times was he going to rub that in?!
"Instead of enjoying my misery, you could help me find some trousers."
"Don't you have the robe anymore?"
He refers to the dirty, stinky, potato-sack-like piece of fabric from back on the ship.
"I sold it for a gold piece," you say- not ashamed of it, money is money- while looking in his teasing, mismatched eyes.
"You are truly a master of managing finances," he smirks- and you point a threatening finger in his direction.
"We're gonna need all the gold we can get to escape this piece of-"
"You are mainly going to need it to acquire something to cover your skin."
The noise you let out at his reminder of your predicament is a mix of a growl and a whine- kicking the backpack somewhere in his general direction and hoping it hurts him.
Ifan can only imagine how this trip will turn out in the long run.