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Karlach sighed as she walked out of camp, Clive in hand, heading for the pond. On the one hand, it had been a cute sight. On the other, watching was all she'd get to do.
She waded into the water and dropped the teddy in, swishing him around. He left little puffs of cloudiness behind; it had been a while since his last bath time.
«Can't do that with anyone, not me,» she told Clive in Infernal. She made herself sound real tough, like he'd been suggesting that he might tell someone to try it. «Not 'til I'm all fixed. It's not worth the hurt.»
Clive's waterlogged head tipped back, like he was offering an ear.
«Oh, when I am? Then there'll be no stopping me.» She smiled a little. «Hugs for everyone, kisses on all the cheeks. They'll be warning each other when they see me coming. Brace yourselves, here comes Karlach!» She snorted, and a little smoke puffed out of her shoulder vents. «Hope they don't do that when I'm fixed,» she fretted. «I'm not trying to give anyone a cough.»
Despite her best efforts, the mental picture came back. What she saw in camp that morning, the image that had been sticking in her mind all day: those two doing each others' hair. Such a silly, unimportant thing, the kind she felt embarrassed to even miss. Tav had reached down, plucked a flower — she would've sworn there was only grass there a moment before, but hey, druid things — and added it to Shadowheart's braid. Karlach gave Clive one more rinse before lifting him up to eye level. «No flowers for me,» she told him gloomily. «I'd burn those pretty things right up, wouldn't I?»
"Well met."
"Wyll!" Karlach whirled around. For some reason, she tucked Clive behind her back at first. Catching herself, she brought him back round, and smiled sheepishly. "Don't suppose you got any of that?"
"Not all. Something about flowers." She felt a flare in her chest, but Wyll was already continuing on, "which reminds me. I've been meaning to ask, do you have a favourite?"
"A favourite flower?" He nodded. "Uh, I don't think so… I like anything. Anything that's not too pollen-y. Why?"
"Just wondering. By the way, Gale sent me to fetch you. Supper's ready."
"Ooh, thanks. Let me just finish here." She gave Clive a good wring and set him just outside her tent to dry.
In the night, Karlach woke with a start, rolled over, and fumbled the tent's flap quickly open. «Sorry, buddy,» she apologised, «forgot I left you out—»
She stopped, looking closer. Sometime between her setting him down and now, Clive had acquired something new: a little nosegay of wildflowers, clasped between his knitted paws.
Huh. For once, she didn't feel quite so hot in her own skin. For a moment, she just felt… warm.
Careful as anything, Karlach wrapped her hands around Clive (and his prize), lifted him up, and brought him into her tent.