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It's been years since Neil was a guard, but the way he studies the papers that Dream brought him makes him look like he could still be one.
He's a bit grizzled now, graying around the muzzle. His whiskers are a little frizzed, and of course, his left arm is still gone. But he has the same suspicious look on his face, and the same glint in his eye.
"You're staring, Lord Prince," he intones, not even looking up at Dream as he turns a page.
"I was just thinking that you haven't changed all that much," Dream shrugs, leaning back in his seat a bit. His pastry is long gone, and his half-drank tea is probably cold by now. "You're a little older, maybe, but that's all."
Neil snorts. "A little?"
"Sorry, I meant to say that you're a decrepit old man, and it's a wonder you haven't dusted yet," Dream replies with a roll of his eyes. Neil chuckles, going back to his papers. "So, what is it?"
"Your brother didn't tell you?"
"Mm, no, he just asked me to deliver it when I visited you today." Neil frowns, but says nothing for a moment. "...Is it bad?" Dream hedges.
"...Not for you," Neil says finally, sounding a bit distracted. "King Gaster is sending a group to retrieve that Graceling that Epic's taken a liking to."
"Cross?"
"Unless there's another Graceling that Epic's in love with, yes." Dream kicks him under the table, but Neil just kicks back, perhaps a little gentler than his former charge had. "Nix wants him back, with or without our cooperation, apparently, and if he won't follow orders once he's back in Gaster's court, he's going to be killed." Neil sighs, closing the folder. "That's what Dust's written, anyway."
"Seems like an awful waste of resources." Dream leans over the table, chin in his hands. "Why bother if they're just going to kill him?"
"Gaster has never been a particularly predictable king," Neil shrugs. "He's volatile and demands respect while treating everyone like garbage. Frankly, it's no wonder Cross ran."
"Volatile and stupid, if he's going to waste resources on someone who he's going to kill," Dream mumbles over his teacup. "And Night will never stand for it."
"Definitely not. He's a little territorial." Neil sips at his own tea, likely lukewarm by now, if not cold. "Then again, your mother was too. Protective of what was hers."
"Night always did take more after mother," Dream sighs, a little wistfully. Nightmare doesn't like to talk about their mother much — he still bottles his grief up tight. Talking about her with Neil is the closest Dream gets to speaking about her with family. "What does Dust want you to do?"
"Nothing crazy. Organize a group for a messenger relay to send word to Lanny, keep an extra eye out," the old guard shrugs. Even past his prime, Neil was often a participant in such relays, still steady on horseback despite missing an arm for a handhold. "The latter will be easy. I already take plenty of walks, I know when there's something amiss in the city."
"Be careful," Dream says, knowing that it's silly to say, but also that he'd break into little tiny pieces if anything ever happened to Neil. "Please."
Neil chuckles. "You aren't getting rid of me anytime soon, little dreamer."