Jaren grimaced at the warning. “Bloody ashes,” he muttered, ducking his head before he could look around in a too obvious manner. He was vaguely aware of Marten, on one side, circling the room to stay clear of the cook, and the cook looming on the other side like a bad omen. “Alright. Let’s ‘finish up’ here, and if we don’t hurry too much we should be able to run into Marten near the door.” A detached part of his mind marvelled at how confident he could sound though they were this close to acquiring extra chores for a week or more. “Not literally run,” he added; that would be a bad idea. If this blew up, Layla probably wouldn’t want to talk to him again. He wouldn’t blame her.
Well, they weren’t in trouble yet, and there was still a chance they might not end up in trouble at all.
He folded the last towel for the last time and straightened slowly, deliberately, rubbing his lower back with one hand. He glanced at Layla off the corner of his eye to see if she was ready. She seemed to be taking this quite well, all things considered; he’d known girls who would have kicked up a fuss at being placed in such a situation. “And now…” he murmured, “we make for the door.”
The cook wouldn’t run, he was fairly sure, even if she thought them suspicious enough to follow; it was beneath her dignity and there were people in the way besides. Jaren made sure not to walk too fast or to look anywhere in the general direction of the cook. He did meet Marten’s eyes briefly to make sure he was on the same page, and to his relief noticed that the younger man was already veering his course towards the door as well.
Just a moment longer and they’d be out of the door with freshly baked snacks…
Well, they weren’t in trouble yet, and there was still a chance they might not end up in trouble at all.
He folded the last towel for the last time and straightened slowly, deliberately, rubbing his lower back with one hand. He glanced at Layla off the corner of his eye to see if she was ready. She seemed to be taking this quite well, all things considered; he’d known girls who would have kicked up a fuss at being placed in such a situation. “And now…” he murmured, “we make for the door.”
The cook wouldn’t run, he was fairly sure, even if she thought them suspicious enough to follow; it was beneath her dignity and there were people in the way besides. Jaren made sure not to walk too fast or to look anywhere in the general direction of the cook. He did meet Marten’s eyes briefly to make sure he was on the same page, and to his relief noticed that the younger man was already veering his course towards the door as well.
Just a moment longer and they’d be out of the door with freshly baked snacks…