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Temenos knew the interior of his home was nothing special. As a man of the cloth, he’d never particularly been interested in having more than the bare necessity. The only indication it was his home was the shelf of religious tomes only the most devout of followers of the Flame would have, but his role as inquisitor left him too busy to do more than sleep whenever he was home. This was perfectly fine with him. He dealt with enough religious tedium while on the clock as is, god forbid he spend time at home reading the scriptures too.
At the very least, he kept the place tidy. For this, he was thankful as Crick stepped through the door into the house proper. Blasphemous and irreverent character aside, Temenos would rather Crick not think he was a slob.
Then again, considering how Crick refused to take his eyes off the floor, Temenos figured it wouldn't have mattered much even if it had been a mess. He'd spent the better part of the walk over from the inn trying to convince Temenos that visiting his home was a bad idea. He had insisted it wasn’t proper for a lone knight, let alone one of his station, to be here in the inquisitor’s home. People would gossip, or something. Temenos had then reminded Crick that he’d spent the week ever since his arrival to Flamechurch trailing after said inquisitor like a lost lamb, and that the townspeople had in fact taken to gossiping about him already, and Crick had gone a bit red in the face, and then quiet until they’d arrived.
It had been funny, and Temenos would’ve teased Crick some more had the townspeople not also mentioned how rare it was to see Temenos spend time with someone outside of the church. Unsure of how to feel about that bit of information, he’d kept it to himself.
“I hope you have a bedroll with you,” Temenos said, to break the silence that had settled over them as they stood awkwardly at the door.
That indeed seemed to break whatever spell had befallen Crick, as he jerked a bit in surprise at being addressed. He straightened up, and continued to look at the floor instead of Temenos, “A… bedroll?”
Temenos resisted the urge to sigh, not wanting to spook the knight before him even more.
“Yes, Crick. A bedroll. I only need one bed to sleep, you see.” He gestured at his bed, for good measure in the hopes that Crick would look up.
Crick blinked, before it seemed to dawn on him. He looked at Temenos, finally, mouth agape.
“You invited me here with no spare bed?!” If Crick had feared people gossiping before, he wasn't helping, as Temenos was almost certain Crick’s voice could be heard throughout the whole town at the volume he was yelling at.
The invitation, if it could even be called that, had occurred earlier that day. With the Pontiff’s funeral the following day, the inn where Crick had stationed himself had become full with members of the clergy from all across the eastern and western continents coming to pay their respects. He had mentioned it in passing to Temenos as he accompanied the inquisitor through the town, finding the influx of patrons somewhat uncomfortable due to the lack of privacy, but hadn’t had the opportunity to find new lodgings. Without thinking twice about it, Temenos had offered his own home as a temporary place to stay. He found Crick an easy subject to bounce theories off of (and regarding the murder, he had quite a few theories), so having him around would be convenient. And, despite his nitpicking Temenos' every action, he actually enjoyed the man's company. He hadn’t thought much beyond that. Crick had eagerly accepted, becoming much less eager as they walked over due to remembering the aforementioned rumours.
And now here they were.
The situation seemed impossible to ignore now, if the way Crick was looking pointedly at anything but Temenos now was any indication. But Temenos was nothing if not a problem solver, and this problem had a fairly simple solution.
"I'll see if Mindt has any spares at the church," Temenos said. It was convenient living next door sometimes. With that he left Crick to cycle through the stages of grief on his own, walking out into the brisk night air in search of the sister.
Temenos suspected he'd find Mindt still at work despite the late hour, and was pleased to see that he was right, as the doors were still open. She always seemed to be busy working on something or other, and today was no exception.
"Temenos? Did you forget something?" she asked, evidently surprised to see him. He hadn't been around much the past week or so, with all the funeral preparations (and investigations on the side), he had left the daily sermons in the capable hands of the other clergymen.
"No, actually I came in search of an extra bedroll. There should be a few in the storeroom if they haven't been taken already to serve the travelers at the inn."
"I can take a look," Mindt said, rising from where she'd been sitting.
"That's quite alright, I can go myself."
Mindt shook her head. "No, please, I insist." Temenos squinted at her. She had noticeable bags under her eyes, and despite her being here late, there was no indication she was actually doing any work at the moment. Understandable, considering he was sure he looked no better at the moment.
He made to sit down but Mindt stopped him. "No need to wait around. It might take a while to find one that isn't buried under a mountain of tomes and scrolls. I'll come by with it later."
Not feeling the desire to insist otherwise, Temenos thanked her and left.
When he returned home shortly after, he was surprised to find Crick was no longer frozen in place by the door. Instead, the man was by the fireplace in the corner, as far from the solitary bed one could be in the house, Temenos noted, stripping off his armor piece by piece. This was the first time Temenos had seen Crick not dressed head to toe in armor. He seemed smaller somehow, not as muscular as the armor itself suggested, but he was by no means as lithe as Temenos was either.
He started when Temenos shut the door, turning around faster than Temenos could blink, "You..!" he said, "Don't you knock?"
"Not on the door of my perpetually empty home, no. I apologise."
Crick continued to frown, not appeased in the slightest by the apology, "You are empty-handed."
"My colleague will stop by with the bedroll later," Temenos said. "That aside, the night is young Crick. Surely you weren't planning on sleeping right away?"
Crick, Temenos had observed in their short time together, wasn't the type to fidget. None of the knights he'd met were, probably as a result of their training. All the same, however, Crick appeared nervous as he considered Temenos' question. "What else is there to do? We've investigated all we could for the time being."
This was untrue. Temenos had yet to tell Crick the full conclusion he’d come to about the book the Pontiff had left in the pulpit the night of his death. Still, considering how jumpy the man was at the moment, he figured it’d be for the best to bring it up another time. Perhaps after the funeral?
“Not very fond of conversation, I see,” Temenos joked. “So be it. I’ll try to get some work done until my colleague arrives with your bedroll. You’re free to join me at the table if you’d like, instead of hiding in the corner. Would you like some tea?”
Crick nodded, and then seemed to catch himself. “I can make it,” he said.
“Nonsense Crick, you’re my guest. What kind of host would that make me?” Even with ihs back turned, Temenos could hear as Crick grumbled behind him as he made the tea.
With two steaming teacups in hand, Temenos turned back around. He was surprised to find that Crick had actually sat down. He had been expecting the man to just sulk in the corner the entire time, which begged the question why Crick had accepted the invitation in the first place.
When Temenos found himself presented with a question, he couldn't rest until he had the answer. And teasing Crick was certainly more interesting than the mountain of paperwork resting on the desk in the corner.
“Crick, why are you here?”
Crick frowned, evidently confused. “What do you mean Temenos? You invited me.”
"That is true, but I didn't think you'd accept. Surely the inn can't be that crowded."
"You've not been there recently if that's what you think. Admittedly, I have come to see now that this was a mistake, but it is too late now, and besides… I wanted some privacy. My thoughts are all over the place regarding the Pontiff’s death."
"Murder," Temenos corrected. He took a casual sip of his tea.
"...murder," Crick repeated, scowling. He sighed. "None of it makes sense. Who would murder the Pontiff?"
"Quite a few heretics I'd imagine, hence your being in Flamechurch in the first place. Surely you haven’t forgotten saving me from one such individual. Seems all the young people in town have become fans of yours after such a heroic performance, might I add."
Crick flushed, embarrassed, but Temenos could tell he was also somewhat pleased. He resisted the urge to smile.
"I begin to doubt how much you even needed my help that day," Crick said. He quickly regained his composure, however, before continuing. "But made it clear that you believe there is more at play than the usual heretical foul play…"
Temenos nodded. "The evidence would suggest as much, yes. It was a very carefully planned murder, those amateur heretics we dealt with had nothing to do with it. You see, I believe that-why are you staring at me?"
Crick, despite having been caught staring, merely shrugged, "Well, you seem to be handling all of this rather well. I was just admiring your strength of will."
Temenos stared back, caught slightly off guard. He wasn't unused to compliments, but coming from a man that often found his antics exasperating to say the least, he found he had no idea what to say in response. "Is that how it appears to you?"
Crick straightened up, suddenly appearing worried. "I meant no offense," he said, "I didn't mean to imply you didn't care about the Pontiff, just that you're…handling it…well…all things considered," he finished weakly.
"Well, no offense taken, Crick," Temenos said. He hid his mouth behind his hand to hide the sly smile on his face. He couldn't help it. For all his needling, Crick was endearingly earnest. Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed by Crick, who frowned.
"Let this be the last time I say anything positive about you."
Temenos smiled. "No, I appreciate it, truly. And you are right."
Crick raised an eyebrow, so Temenos continued.
"Everyone else in town is beside themselves with grief," he said. "Understandably so. The Pontiff was like a father to everyone here. It falls to me to be a guiding figure to them now, more so than I was already in any case." He made no mention of the fact that he did not intend to stay in Flamechurch for long after the funeral. It wasn’t the right time for it.
He continued. "Regrettably, I don't have the time or luxury to grieve, with all there is to be done." It was said without any trace of emotion, stated plainly, as if Temenos were giving a particularly uninteresting sermon.
Crick was silent for a moment as he searched Temenos' face for something. Temenos, being the way he was, couldn't let this go.
"You quite enjoy staring at me, don't you Crick? Maybe there is some truth to the gossip after all."
"Please, Temenos, I was simply wondering how best to say what I was thinki- what gossip? There's more gossip?" A hint of worry passed over his face. The air of seriousness that had settled over them at Temenos' earlier admission dissipated into thin air as Crick frowned for the umpteenth time that night.
"According to some of the older sisters, you're quite smitten with me, hence trailing after me like a lost lamb. I'm quite popular here in Flamechurch, you see, being a young, obviously unmarried man in a high station." Temenos sighed. "I suppose you couldn't help yourself."
"Don't be ridiculous, Temenos. How could I ever be smitten with someone as irreverent and underhanded as you?"
"My looks perhaps? Or my charming wit?" At Crick's utterly unimpressed look, Temenos held his hands up in a placating gesture. "'Tis a joke, obviously. I'm simply repeating back to you the nonsense I've heard from the villagers."
"I knew I should have declined to stay here," Crick despaired. "I accept that a knight of my station should pay no mind to rumours and the like, but if I'd known I'd have to put up with more of your teasing I'd have stayed at the inn."
"Truly an oversight on your part, considering you spend most of your time with me either wringing your hands or begging the gods for forgiveness."
"And to think I worried for you for even a moment. I'll never learn my lesson."
That made Temenos pause for a moment, genuine surprise painted his features before he schooled his expression back to his normal sly smile.
"You were worried for me?"
Crick crossed his arms. "Temenos, I am not giving you the opportunity to make fun of me again." Despite his words, given his sincere nature, Crick quickly gave in. "I haven't known you for long, but as the funeral draws ever closer I couldn't help but feel like you were…not yourself."
If there was one thing most everyone could agree on about Temenos, it was that he was a hard man to read. He kept his emotions behind a mask of indifference for many reasons. If he was being truthful, he was afraid to get close to anyone again, but he told himself that it was necessary as an inquisitor, and because emotions typically got in the way of solving mysteries. As such, it took a lot to rattle him. Temenos sighed. "I'm reassured to know that an upstanding knight such as you is worried for me. Perhaps everything will work out just fine, after all."
Crick narrowed his eyes, again searching Temenos' face, albeit this time for any hint of insincerity. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he relaxed his posture a bit. Temenos worried, briefly, if maybe he wasn't as hard to figure out as he had once thought. Or maybe, without realising it, he'd given Crick a peak of what was behind the walls he'd raised. Truly, an unnerving thought, but not the end of the world. He did truthfully believe that the man was entertaining to be around.
Crick placed his teacup down on the table. "Well, I’m glad you’re finally taking me seriously. I do feel as if I've just done all my morning training in one go, however, when all we've done is sit here and talk."
Temenos laughed. "Despite your reservations about me I'm happy to have you here. I don't often have company that isn't directly related to my work."
"You're only saying that because you enjoy teasing me.” Crick scowled in an almost childish manner. “Truly, I'm glad to help relieve some of the weight on your shoulders, but surely there are other ways?"
"Well now Crick, despite the gossip, it's not as if I invited you back here for that sort of thing," Temenos said nonchalantly, setting his teacup on the table as well.
Crick opened his mouth to respond, then shut it, only belatedly realising what Temenos had insinuated. He turned such a violent shade of red Temenos worried briefly for his well-being.
"I admit, that was a bit crass, even for me."
Crick closed his eyes, "I-! You-! Why do you refuse to behave with any propriety for longer than a few seconds?"
"Now, where is the fun in that?"
"You're an inquisitor , Temenos."
"Alright, alright I apologise. Now would you please stop sulking?" Temenos reached out to touch Crick's hand in an attempt to get him to open his eyes. He didn't expect, however, for Crick to nearly jump out of his skin at the slight brush of Temenos' fingertips over his knuckles.
"By the Flame, Crick, don't topple yourself over! I don't think my old chair will last if you fall on top of it, even without all that armor," Temenos exclaimed. He reluctantly retracted the offending hand, amused by Crick's response but not wanting to make him uncomfortable.
Crick frowned down at the table.
"You're still toying with me? Really Temenos?"
"I simply didn't expect you to react like a blushing maiden over a little teasing, so I'm simply curious. Are you sure the rumours are untrue?"
Crick pressed his lips into a thin line in lieu of a response. Evidently Temenos was trying his patience, but this was nothing new to the two of them, even if they had only known each other for a little under a week’s time. As such, Temenos continued.
"Oh, come now Crick. If you don't say anything I'll have no choice but to believe that you're actually smitten with me. I didn’t think a knight as serious about his devotion to the church would behave like this over a little crush."
That got Crick’s attention, as Temenos knew it would.
“I do not have a crush on you, Temenos, if that is what you’re insinuating. We are not schoolchildren.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“I don’t,” Crick insisted. He paused for a moment, as if he was unsure whether he should continue speaking. “I’ve only just met you, Temenos, and yet, why am I here devoting myself to protecting you when you don't need me…” he trailed off. "And despite your incessant teasing, and your blasphemous behaviour, I'm still here. It defies explanation."
A confession (of sorts) had not been what Temenos was expecting. Especially given the topic. Not for the first time tonight, he’d been caught off guard, “I believe you would do that for anyone, Crick.”
Crick shook his head. “That is my duty as a knight of the Sacred Guard, of course, but it’s different with you. It’s quite like you’ve put a spell on me.”
For the first time in maybe Temenos’ whole life, he felt himself flush. As much as Temenos liked to fluster people, he was bad at facing genuine sincerity.
“Crick, I-”
There was a loud, solitary knock on the door. Both Temenos and Crick started, having been too caught up in their conversation to hear footsteps.
“Temenos? It’s Mindt. I have the bedroll you asked for.”
Temenos turned to look at Crick, who looked back wordlessly, before standing up. “Give me a moment,” he called out, before walking towards the door and opening it.
Sure enough, when Temenos opened the door, there was Mindt, bedroll in hand.
“Is something the matter? You seem quite flushed,” she said.
Temenos took the bedroll from her. He shrugged. “Might be a fever. Maybe I’ll retire early tonight.”
“I see. Good night then.”
“Good night, and thanks again Mindt.”
When Temenos shut the door and turned back around, Crick was once again in the corner by his belongings.
“I take it you’re turning in for the night as well?” Temenos asked.
“Er, yes. Lots to do tomorrow, what with the funeral and...,” Crick gestured at the bedroll, which Temenos handed over to him. “It would be best to get some rest.”
“That it would,” Temenos said. It was clear to Temenos that the conversation they’d been having before Mindt had arrived wasn’t going to be revisited, at least not for tonight. But why did he feel so unnerved by this?
He sat at his desk to think.
“Good night, Temenos,” Crick called from the corner. The man’s back was turned away from him.
Temenos sighed. He understood now. He was feeling disappointed. “Good night, little lamb.”
Crick groaned, which made Temenos smile. So be it, he thought as he turned to the work he’d been putting off the whole night.