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The campfire before them crackled and danced as it burned whatever fuel was added to keep the flames from burning out. The skies had just turned a warm mix of red and orange as the sun began to quickly set, a ticking timebomb for those who are still out there gathering resources and food for the base. Maxwell stared at the other man as they sat in opposite ends by the fire. The magician nervously rubs his claws together, a soothing jester for himself. It makes the two of them now, unless night falls and forces the others to come running home until their torches burn out.
“Am I…did I hear you correctly?” Maxwell inquired, continuing the conversation with the lumberjack that was burned out just like their fire would if not kept well.
“Yup.”
“How is that possible? To not… ’like’ people, I mean. Do you not get tired of your own lonesome?”
“Just because I like my axe don’t mean I can’t make friends.”
Maxwell blinks. He still continued to watch the man through the hot flames as he watched Woodie hold his axe close and stare down at… ”her” with dark eyes. ‘Lucy’ is what he calls it, yes? Damn thing even had a name too…
“Ah. I see.” The gentleman cleared his throat. The logger quickly snapped his head up towards the sudden noise and Maxwell then caught himself, his eyes, wandering off to look at something else. The wave of embarrassment…or awkwardness (as if it’s any better) washing over him and his heart only slightly. It would be better to take note of how messy the campgrounds were than experience the unsteadiness of being caught staring. It was rude to stare.
“Hoser,”
Maxwell’s stomach felt like a spring being pushed down as he felt his own eyes wander back to meet Woodie’s gaze. Why did he feel so submissive? How could he let some fool like some measly, hairy logger make him feel this way? The man literally admitted to being more romantically attracted to fucking objects than people themselves for god’s sake! He was practically nothing compared to him — to anyone!
The logger cocked his head to the side, rather innocently in fact. Lucy still sat in his tight grasp. “Why are ya so interested in me?”
The magician pulled himself up from his hunched posture. His face morphed from blank, or at least something that appeared to be, to completely speechless. He frowned and quickly turned his head away as Maxwell sputtered, speech suddenly being an issue for him from such a direct…assumption of him.
“I-Interested in you?! I say, I’m not interested in you!” He argued. “I am just…curious! Curious of your nature, and that stupid little axe you treat like gold.”
Woodie then held Lucy tightly against his chest once the other said that. His typical, old look then became a soft glare of anger. Looks like the old man successfully offended the logger.
“She’s not stupid.” He muttered. He then gently pets the axe as if she were a scared puppy, peering down at her like she whispered something to him through upset stammers. “Ya sound more defensive about it than anythin’.”
“I’m NOT defensive!” Maxwell barked.
Woodie chuckled. “There it is again.”
Maxwell wanted to tear whatever’s left of his hair directly from his scalp. Dare to read him like a book, did he? Curse him and his little axe. Curse him, go to hell!
“There’s nothin’ to get defensive over,” Woodie continued, keeping his usual calm tone like he had kept throughout the whole interaction. “I just asked a question. You’ve been prodin’ me ever since the others left again to get more stuff.”
“I said I was just curious,” Maxwell growled. “Screw me for having curiosity, eh?”
“I-I never said that.” Woodie corrected. “I…was just wonderin’ really. Like, why would you be curious about me? Isn’t Wilson or Webber or that lil’ robot more interesting than me?”
For some reason, this itched Maxwell’s want to smoke a cigar. “Wilson is just some idiot who’s made himself believe he’s a genius. That spider child is a literal freak of nature, and WX-78 is some man’s creation who hates anything that’s not a machine.”
He couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle at the thought of them. “Yet, they’re the only one here who I half-like…for their wishes for destruction— whatever, that’s not the subject here. My point is that these things are not even close to itching my curiosity as you are. Who else here is doomed with three wonderful curses?”
“You gave me those,” Woodie muttered.
Maxwell’s lip quirked. True, he did give him those curses. It doesn’t seem the little curse-ridden woodsman isn’t taking his flattery for even a second. Can he just not accept these little compliments he’s sprinkling?
“Ah, yes,” the former Nightmare King replied, clearing his throat once more. “Is it still not wonderful?”
“Makes me feel a bit better bein’ in my own skin,” The logger admits. “That and it does have it’s benefits from time to time.”
Woodie blinked and was still gently petting his beloved axe. It appeared that he was staring into the fire now, watching it dance between the two men. Maxwell lifted his head up to gaze upon the sky, checking the time if you will.
It was getting darker. The beautiful reds then became to morph into an inky black and the darkest of blues. This means the others will be home soon. Maxwell quietly wondered to himself of what they’ve gotten, if they’ve even gathered anything for that matter.
“I wouldn’t say this curse is“wonderful” as it is just helpful and kind of a pain at times.” Woodie continued. “I ain’t gonna thank you for it, though.”
“I guess that’s deserved,” Maxwell replied, still staring up at the sky before pulling back his head down to eye the redheaded man before him.
“I know you aren’t interested in my curse. What about you askin’ about dear old Lucy?”
The magician’s gaze was directed towards Woodie now. He frowned, a dark look clouding his face like he had insulted him. “Have you ever not had those other cretins ask you about your silly old axe before?”
Woodie nodded slightly. “Yeah, but…why you too? You seem to care more about yourself and that book than whatever else. Why her? Why now?”
“Once again, can I not be curious for once?!” Maxwell griped.
“I didn’t say that…” Woodie muttered once again. “I just think there’s more to it.”
“There’s nothing more to anything! I’ve said what I said and I’m putting it at that.”
The slight warmth growing on Maxwell’s face said otherwise. Thank god it was getting dark out. Nobody would see the slight flush on his old, pale face. Nobody would really see it completely if he’d retreat to his tent now. Woodie looked down at the ground. He appeared like he was rightfully scolded, which was what happened but…it was more unwarranted than anything. Curse this man for making the great Maxwell flush. Curse this man for making him so ungodly nervous that it felt like walking on eggshells.
The old man sighed and stood up. He brushed his suit off with a claw before returning his gaze to the redheaded lumberman.
“Say pal,” he began. His tone was back to its usual self. It was almost as if he never chewed the man out in the first place. “Help me add some fuel to the fire, will ya? It’s getting dark.”
Woodie nodded and got up to his feet. He didn’t dust himself off of the dirt and dust like Maxwell had. It goes to show how used he was to the wilderness and all of its grime. “Honestly, I never noticed.”
“The fire or the darkness approaching?”
“Both.”
A small smile grew on the magician’s face. Ah, how did he not notice? Of course, Woodie was either staring at his little girlfriend or the fire. He didn’t even recall him staring back at him as often as Maxwell did with him. Not returning the eye contact Maxwell gave. Strange, but something in him just shrugged it off as…that’s Woodie. He wasn’t going to question it.
Grabbing the stack of grass that was left on the ground by the spider child, Maxwell tossed it into the fire as Woodie wandered off towards one of the chests in search of any lumber that was gathered that day. If there wasn’t any, then he’d have no choice but go for a quick run in the dark. But Maxwell wouldn’t let him go alone, not when he knows Charlie’s out there.
Maybe after that, they could clean up the camp. Just a little bit. Maybe he’ll apologize too, but only a little bit.