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Álvaro runs inside, water dripping from his hair. The lantern in his hand is still lit by some miracle, given the thick ropes of rain behind the windows.
“Did you check on the animals?” Isco asks as Álvaro grabs a dry piece of canvas and throws it over his head.
“Me?” Álvaro raises his brows, drying his hair. “Isn’t that your job?”
“Yes, but I’d have to go outside,” Isco whines. “Is it such a problem to look if the horses haven’t drowned?”
“I’m sure they haven’t,” Álvaro says and hangs both the cloth and his shirt over the stove. “Well, what are we doing tonight? Going to the tavern is out of question… luckily.”
“Why luckily?”
“Because I know you,” Álvaro says. “Letting you go there alone is dangerous for you, and going there with you is dangerous for both of us.”
Isco puffs his cheeks, but says nothing, remembering all the times he got them in trouble.
“Well, as for tonight, I had my mind set on playing cards, but then…” he says.
“But then what?” Álvaro frowns.
“Then you took off your shirt and…”
“Isco!”
“It will keep us warm!” Isco objects and stalks closer.
“Why do you have arguments for everything?” Álvaro sighs.
But later, in complete darkness, when Isco holds him close and there’s nothing but the sound of the rain and the rhythm of their breaths, he knows he wouldn’t change it for anything.