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Caleb is sitting in the back of the cart, trying to keep a very wet and very disgruntled Frumpkin warm in the rain. Frumpkin, for his part, is curled grumpily on his lap under his coat, while Caleb shivers in the cold. They have spare blankets, he knows, but he can’t disturb his drenched cat, so.
Molly’s in with them, ostensibly to nap, but Caleb knows they’ve been keeping an eye on him after yesterday. He appreciates it, but mostly he wishes the rest of the group would stop coddling him. Also, he wishes he were warmer.
Like they can read his mind, Molly moves over to him, drapes a blanket over his shoulders, and sits beside him, all without saying a word. Caleb catches himself wishing they could share it, and he shakes himself. He hasn’t been this close to anyone except Nott in a long while, and the proximity is unfamiliar, though not unwelcome.
He thinks maybe he was onto something with Molly’s telepathy when they put their arm carefully around his shoulder.
After a long while spent thinking about it, he leans into them, resolutely avoiding looking at their face, and instead looks down at Frumpkin. Frumpkin, however, has no such qualms and stares up at Mollymauk, head poking out from the fold of Caleb’s coat. Caleb takes a brief glance around to be sure no one else will see before letting his senses slip; he blinks and sees through Frumpkin’s eyes.
A small smile curls across Molly’s face as they reach over and scritch behind Frumpkin’s ears gently. “I can see your eyes, you know.”
Heat floods Caleb’s cheeks as he blinks, his senses returning.
“You can look at me,” Molly continues. “You won’t turn to stone.”
Caleb nods, eyes still fixed on the cat in his lap. “That was, ah, certainly something, yesterday,” he says. “With those thieves.”
Mollymauk shrugs, their shoulder moving against Caleb’s. “Can’t really call them thieves, can you?” they say, chuckling. “They were absolute shite.”
“Ja, they were pretty bad,” agrees Caleb. “But you helped them.”
They hum noncommittally. “Sometimes you can just tell when people need help.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb catches them looking up at the roof of the cart, like they can see through it to the sky above.
“I like being kind,” they say softly. “The world is hard- and cruel, sometimes, but... if I can make it even just a bit better, shouldn’t I?”
Caleb looks at them finally, and they’re still staring at the roof. He wants to ask them about this philosophy, about what they’ve seen that would lead them to adopt it, but if anyone knows the value of privacy, it’s him.
“You gave everyone their silver back in Alfield, too,” he says instead. “When they tried to buy us drinks.”
“I’m surprised you noticed,” they say, smiling a little. “You were out of it for most of that night.”
“Ja, I was,” Caleb says. Mollymauk nods, but doesn’t press further.
Beau has been poking and prodding at old wounds, nearly every time it comes up, and Nott has been hovering and asking if he’s alright. Molly does none of this, and Caleb is appreciative. He's not okay, and Molly seems to understand that. He wonders sometimes what they’re hiding behind the vague answers to questions about their past.
Frumpkin stands, then, and stretches, jaw opening in a huge yawn.
“Tired, are we?” Molly asks him, voice fond.
“He's had a big day of napping,” Caleb says, and Frumpkin meows in protest.
“Oh, be nice,” Molly admonishes. They pat their lap. “Come here, darling, I won't make fun of you.”
Frumpkin goes, settling on Mollys lap and purring softly.
‘He likes you,” Caleb says.
Molly grins and says, “I'm sure he can't help it, I'm very lovable.”
Caleb just chuckles. They settle back into comfortable silence, and when Caleb feels brave, he rests his head on Molly’s shoulder.