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Wyll knew what was going to happen the moment it started.
Vern and the rest of the day crew wandered back into camp looking only slightly worse for wear. Though that probably had more to do with Shadowheart’s presence amongst them than a lack of trouble. Vern and Karlach were at the back of the group, laughing about something with each other as they both carried a rather impressive amount of boxes and chests.
Wyll had wondered at one point how they’d seen over the towering stacks until he watched one of them trip, drop them all, laugh and then help each other carefully assemble the pile again. There were no clattering tumbles this time but the Blade went about reorganizing his gear while he watched their resident rogue out of the corner of his good eye.
If he hadn’t started to see behind the snarky mask that the vampire put up (and if he didn’t use a similar means of shielding himself) he might just buy the feigned disinterest. Seeing past it, however, made this so much more interesting. There was a twitch to Astarion’s eye as the pair of barbarians halted their trek near his tent and started unloading all of their crates in neat piles. Well, neater . Wyll wasn’t sure that Vern truly knew the meaning of the word clean. Still, the small show of irritation was all the entertainment the warlock was looking for.
His own things were put back into neat stacks that would make for easier packing when they decided to move camp and he opened a bottle of wine. Partly to reward himself and partly to go with the show happening just across camp. Karlach had finished setting down her own load and loudly proclaimed that she was gonna call dibs on the soap before dinner. Shadowheart quickly volunteered to keep her company and Wyll found himself sharing a knowing look with Gale before focusing back on the other entertainment at hand.
He had to bite his tongue and laugh into his cup as he watched their leader settle yet another locked chest in front of Astarion’s tent. The rogue was doing an admirable job of hiding his bewilderment behind salacious jokes but Wyll knew he’d hear the vampire grumbling as he tripped over another box in the morning.
“Darling that one still has an active trap.” Astarion interrupted Vern’s story of where they picked it up and the tiefling looked at the chest again, eyes wide.
“Does it? I didn’t notice!” he laughed, rubbing a hand through the tight curls that had mostly stayed blood free. He started to reach a hand toward the chest again
“Well, if you want I can get rid of i-”
Astarion slapped his hand down quickly with a rather undignified squawk, one that Wyll would needle him about later, and one he was certain the vampire would deny.
“No! No. Not where you might damage my rug you brute!” He sighed theatrically and Wyll hid another smile, he could see the fondness in the rogue’s eyes even across camp.
“Let me handle it, while I work you can tell me what trouble found you today.” Astarion shooed Vern back and settled down with his tools in front of the first box. Vern’s tail swished happily as he settled back on a previous stack that he’d brought and started gleefully recounting the day’s events.
Wyll smiled warmly at the pair of them before wandering over to Gale’s tent. It was time to ask what he could do to assist with the evening’s meal and leave the odd lovesick couple to their games.