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Cale Henituse was currently on a serious debate: one on hand, taking off the bombs from Clopeh’s limbs could let that little snake think he could go around causing even more chaos and making more people turn crazy like him; on the other though, the idea of spending any more times sitting on top of explosives or being surrounded by them wasn’t particularly appealing to him. But then, again, how else was he going to keep a tight leash on that crazy asshole of his?
“Cale-nim, do you like this place? I’m sure I could arrange something like this in a nicer place for you.”
The redhead ignored the question, turning his face away from the handsome man sitting in the wheelchair he was pushing, and quickly refocused his sight back to him when the first thing the green colour of the apples hanging in the orchard reminded him of was the eyes of the Sekka.
What a pity, really, even nature now was tainted by that snake’s presence; he couldn’t even take a little walk on some noble’s yard without his mind filling with worries of what he was doing.
“Just green apples are boring,” he finally commented, carefully turning the wheelchair to the left when they reached a split path. “Some other fruits would look good too.”
“Right? Maybe red ones, some dark-ish ones too.”
The soft hint of tease under Clopeh’s tone didn’t escape the Henituse’s ears, but before he could chide his the man for what he said, he added with a more obvious mocking voice: “But caring for them sounds like a pain, right, Cale-nim?”
The temptation of letting the handles go at the top of a hill was strong (not like the Sekka would end up hurt, Mary had ensured him time and time again that his limbs worked just fine, even if they roughed them a bit), but he managed to turn that down with practised ease. “Shut it,” Cale scoffed instead.
“Yes, Cale-nim.”