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    Summary

    Later, he’s washing up before dinner in the little tub behind the cook wagon, at the frustrated behest of Mrs Grimshaw – “Arthur, how are we even to know it’s you under all that filth?” – when he catches Charles watching him. Not leering, just watching in the quiet, placid way Charles seems to watch things, the same way Arthur does when he draws; just observing, committing things to memory.
    When their eyes meet, Charles’s lips turn up at the corners, the slightest intimation of a smile, and he winks, the cocky bastard. Months ago when they’d met and Arthur had seen something spark in those kind eyes, he’d never imagined Charles would be so cruel as to tease him this way. Could never have imagined anything so relentlessly good as that.

    ---

    Kîyanaw – Us, inclusive; you and me.

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