Work Text:
On silent footpads the rogue sneaks around the sleeping camp. He slinks from the shadows, coming from the back of the camp towards the crackle of the campfire. With deft footsteps he crouches next to the fire. Carefully, quietly, he pours water into a pot, the stream splashing noiselessly against the side of the container. A mage hand holds the pot above the flames as the rogue slowly tears open a packet of instant coffee and tips the contents into a mug, the slither of the crystals a soothing patter, softer than the sound of the flames.
Soon the water begins to bubble and he moves the hand and pot off the fire. He pours himself a steaming mug of coffee, enjoying the zen of the moment as he takes his first sip.
But then the moment is lost as the silence is broken.
“Riz…” Adaine – still half-asleep – mumbles, just low enough for it to reach his sensitive ears. “You can hide the sounds but you can't hide the smell.”
Busted.