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They don’t talk much.
It’s not that False and XB don’t like talking to each other–their conversations are as pleasant as any would expect from two wits as honed as theirs. Neither are noted as the chattiest of hermits, but know the power of a word well-aimed; near as sharp as their archery.
And it’s not that they don’t have opportunities to speak. Time zones are apart, but sleep schedules sync similar enough to see each other around
They simply don’t feel like they need to talk that much.
False will be mid-conversation with Rendog, and FedXB will fly in, drop off a fortune, and fly out, and False will not break stride.
Or XB will be perusing the bookstore, and False will pop in beside him, and the silence will grow louder for remaining until one of them pays leaves. Louder, but not any less comfortable.
It sometimes feels like a bit, an in-joke in the silence unnoticed. A Hermit can go an entire conversation with both of them, and only afterwards realized that False and XB never actually addressed each other directly, only bouncing back and forth off the third party’s words, and the things that the other didn’t need to say out loud to be heard.
A look is a thousand pictures.
They don’t talk much.
They don’t need to.
Because sometimes, False will just sit on the end of her aqueduct, feeling the breeze soothe the aches of a good day’s work in calves and palms. And she doesn’t need to call for him in chat, or even out loud. (Not that anyone would be able to hear her over the water rushing beside.) She can just close her eyes.
When they open, he will be there, sitting next to her. Looking very much like someone trying to look casual, and not like they just flew in at rocket speed. They will smile at each other, and look away.
XB will rest his head on her shoulder. False will rest her head on his head.
And they will watch the sun move, together, in silence.
They don’t need to talk.