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“You like camping, Sova?”
Hunter looks up from his book, Cypher leaning over the back of the couch to ask him the question. He hadn’t been reading related to the sort, nor had any nearby conversation surrounded the topic—a singular brow is raised.
“I do. Why do you ask?”
Cypher hums, staring off at nothing in particular. “No reason. Just wanted to ask.”
“I see.”
Silence as he quietly resumes his readings, and Cypher hangs over his shoulder all the while, a calm, constant presence hovering nearby.
“What’s it like?” he asks suddenly, and Sova looks up again.
“Have you never been?”
“Willingly and in good condition?” (He chuckles lightly.) “I’m afraid not.”
Sova frowns, bookmarking his page before closing the book altogether. “It’s… You know how I have cousins, right?”
“Five of them, yes.” (A cheeky laugh.) “Of course I do.”
“Well, when you go with the right people, it’s an experience,” Sova explains, a hint of fondness coloring his voice. “You’re out in the woods, spending time with those you care about without all the business of everyday life… It’s fun. Peaceful, also. We used to camp a lot together.”
“Before you drifted apart.”
Sova shrugs. “It was bound to happen. We got older, and we had our own lives to attend to. Didn’t particularly help that I joined the military, and then…” (A vague gesture of his hand.) “…this. I’ve gone a few times since, however.”
“But it isn’t quite the same.”
“I suppose it isn’t.”
Cypher says nothing, gaze wandering elsewhere as Sova waits in silence. After nearly a whole minute passes, the hunter reaches for his book again.
“We should go sometime,” broker muses, halting Sova’s motion. A moment passes before hunter nods.
“Yes. We should.”
It would be a whole day, Sova imagines—a weekend, perhaps, if they were lucky. They’d get everything prepared two days in advance and then embark at first dawn, and Cypher would nearly fall asleep multiple times on the way there, Sova teasing him about the sleep schedule he always refused to fix. When they arrived, Cypher would shortly fall unconscious, and Sova would take it upon himself to set up their camp proper. By the time the broker arose again, everything would already be ready, and they’d be able to spend the day doing whatever they pleased.
—like going fishing or swimming. Sova could show him the basics of hunting or surviving in the wilderness (because that was always so different from trying to survive in the city); at some points, Cypher would feel comfortable enough to remove his mask for a little while, and Sova would act like it wasn’t that big of a deal despite the fact that it was always such a cherished rarity.
And at the end of each day, Sova would drag Cypher to the best spot to see the sunset, and the broker would complain about the walk up until they finally arrived before commenting something about it actually maybe being somewhat worth it. Sova would laugh before sitting on the grass and inviting Cypher to sit next to him.
Cypher would accept, and then they’d chat for a while about anything and everything and nothing at all; the sky would pass from purple to pink to red, and then into dark blue and finally black. The both of them would still sit there as the first fireflies emerged, before one of them commented that they should probably start heading back.
So they would, not chatting much, but rather existing in a comfortable quiet, and when they got back to camp, they’d take turns changing in the tent—Sova first, and then Cypher, so that the latter wouldn’t have to be in the open dark unmasked.
And then Sova would enter the tent, the broker already bundled up in his sleeping bag, and he’d lay down next to him, talking aimlessly about what it was like growing up in Severomorsk and all the ways he’d kill time with his cousins. At one point, he’d mention how they used to huddle up at night to stave off the colder Russian winters; Cypher would call him cute for that, and Sova would try his best not to appear embarrassed.
Eventually, they’d fall asleep, the night drifting further into cold darkness, and in the middle of it, Cypher would barely wake, the chillest hour having dawned upon them. Sova would notice, quietly waking, before shuffling closer and offering the broker a place in his arms. Cypher would take it, and a warm affection would swell in the hunter’s chest.
At the end of it all, they’d gather their things—with Cypher awake this time—and when it was all packed up, they’d look at the empty campsite and start wordlessly making plans for next time. Then, Cypher would complain about the walk before it even began, and Sova would point out as much with a lighthearted smile on his face. They’d make it back to headquarters with new memories swirling inside them, and regardless of whether or not Cypher actually enjoyed the excursion, they would both have already agreed to do it again sometime.
“That’s a good idea,” Sova remarks.
And the eyes of Cypher’s lenses scrunch up in the way they always do when he’s smiling, his joy infectious and already threatening to spread. “I’m looking forward to it,” he says, and Sova smiles.
“Me too.”