Work Text:
Long shadows stretch from the cowls, hiding a lone Al – in vain.
He jerks around with surprise, all of which is gone when he recognises Kat. "Will you ever grow tired of invading my personal space?"
Her tone is only slightly apologetic. "Normally, I'd bounce my thoughts off Creampuff, but she's out of commission." Being compared to an owl and losing is not exactly flattering, but before Al's brain can reach any kind of extended conclusions, Kat corrects course. "You're honest and intelligent. That's more than I get from most people here." She swallows any remarks about Seldanna that might undermine the message.
Oblivious to the compliment's extent, there is little more than a vaguely agreeing shift of tension in Al's face. He doesn't really want to gossip, or talk much at all. If it stood a serious chance at keeping her busy, he might lend her a book or two.
Unfortunately for him, Kat is investigating ghosts, gnomes, and other exciting things. So, of course, she needs all the gossip. "I've been thinking, do any of them have interesting family relations that might help build rapport with royal guard?"
Al briefly considers whether she means that in addition to, or instead of, his dad. "Nobody noteworthy enough, as far as I know. Though you probably know them better than I by now." Not to mention the respect she has gained, almost as if it were natural. As if she hardly had to prove herself.
There he sulks again. Kat much prefers him when he sees her as equal. Maybe she has to come down and meet him at the bottom this time. "I doubt it. Some are talkative, but most keep to themselves. Like–" Stop being weird about Manny. "–Hardag."
"You got him to talk a bit on the first night." Al squints, curious if Kat remembers as much.
Her cheeks flush. She thought they'd been over this already, but apparently there is more. "Ah… Wonder how I did that." A pathetic little laugh achieves the exact opposite of playing the circumstances down.
At this moment, like a flash, the intrusive memory of Raven's unsolicited advice enters Al's mind. "The key is to ask her questions that get her to talk about herself." Where did that even come from? It's not like he cares about her life story. In fact, he's a guard, and for all he knows, Kat and her familiar have committed plenty of petty crimes just waiting to be reported. He'd have to detain her, his reputation would be shattered, and then his father would demand Anthea's spectacular new employee back. Imagining the resulting arguments gives him a headache. No, as long as she keeps her act together, Al sees no reason to poke at her past.
Except there's that feeling again, the feeling that Kat is hiding something bigger. She has the makings of a thief, couldn't afford make-up until recently. And yet, she's a wizard, which is famously expensive with spellbooks and all.
Okay, maybe Al should ask about that.
"How did you get into wizardry?" Only after Al said this and is met with a stunned Kat does he realise this was a non-sequitur. Though she also seems happy to change the topic.
Kat takes a breath to answer, but then stalls. There is no way to talk about this without reaching painful memories or spilling dangerous secrets. She fails to find a good way out before Al pushes more.
He only just remembered last night's talk, and figures it's good context. "You said your father is a spellsword?" Judging from Kat's sorrowful expression, it is not good context.
Her gaze drifts aside, made uncomfortable by Al's innocent inquiry, and her lips only muster one word. "Was." Enough to make Al feel like an idiot. Kat has a Talent, it stands to reason her father did too. He must have been an adventurer or otherwise lived a dangerous life, and there's no telling when or how hard the loss hit Kat.
Salvaging a conversation like this is well beyond his usual abilities. Though Al failed to be intelligent about it, he can at least be honest. "I– I'm sorry. I should have thought before bringing it up." He is fully turned towards her now, hands raised as if he could catch her attention with one and the falling mood with the other.
Kat turns back to him. It's clear he understands the problem. From what little she has gathered, he feels similarly about his mother, and Kat has been mindful not to bring her up for this reason. It's a bitter thing to have in common.
Well, she hasn't said it, but something about her searching stare registers in the back of Al's head as sympathy. His lips part for a breath. Shallow furrows break his forehead. His hands are still up at elbow height, forgotten until now. He pulls them a bit farther to the side, an asking gesture as he tries to make sense of the moment.
This, she understands, but it gives her a plausible excuse to advance The Plan, and the moment seems good enough. And so, with a faint hint of a smile and a brief nod, she throws herself into Al's involuntary embrace.
"What–" is asked far too late to stop it. He sees little more than blonde hair anymore, and feels two arms tightly wrapping around under his. When he tries to move his head, her turtle-neck tickles his chin. Al somehow expected it to smell like either booze and vomit, or perfume. It's neither. It's plain ordinary, humble and comfortable.
At last, he accepts the situation and puts his own strong arms around her. The left one as far as it comfortably goes, the other lax enough that its hand can rest on her shoulderblade. She remembers that he is strong, but he's also soft and warm, and not nearly as tense as expected.
Time around them seems to slow down. The gentle draft hardly brushes them here like this. It is quiet… until Kat sniffs. "Are you crying?"
Her grip relaxes, but she doesn't break away. "I didn't think I needed a hug this badly."
"…Me neither."