Nyssa was trying her best not to explode.
Quite literally.
She sighed as she slowly descended the stairs of the rundown tavern, boots pressing against warped wood with deliberate restraint. Each creak beneath her heel was an accusation. Another reason to turn around, storm back up, and shove a pillow over that smug bastard's face.
What was she even thinking? Honestly, what in the world had possesed her to carry a literal stranger with her out of the way of the most dangerous forest in existence?
It was reckless. Stupid. Borderline suicidal.
He had no training. No sense. No awareness. Just that crooked smile, that relentless optimism, and some kind of dumb luck that kept dragging him forward no matter how many times the world should've tried to eat him alive.
For all she knew, the bastard himself could be a horrifying conjuration of the forest—heck all of this could have be some sort of twisted dream, and maybe she was caught in some mystical trap of sorts, dreaming her final moments away with some kind of... ideal man.
Honestly, the past two days had been the most exhausting she had to endure in her life.
Two years of aimless wandering and preparation and what got her out of that damned forest was Jack.
Jack... Stupid moron...
And worse?
He was getting comfortable.
That part infuriated her the most.
Nyssa reached the bottom step and scanned the tavern. Same as it had been few hours ago—low beams, uneven tables, stale air soaked into every inch of cracked stone and weathered timber. A few locals sat scattered, hunched over mugs or nursing bowls of thin stew, casting her side-eyes but saying nothing.
She liked it better that way. The silence. The suspicion. It was familiar. Real.
Not like him.
Nyssa moved toward the far corner, ignoring the stares. Her boots thudded against uneven floorboards as she took a seat facing the door. Old habit. She scanned each figure once, quickly, methodically—then dismissed them.
No threats. No blades drawn. Just sleepy, toothless locals. One of them was drooling into his ale.
She envied them a little.
A tavern girl came by, barely older than a teenager. "You want anything?"
Nyssa didn't answer immediately. Her eyes were still on the door. Just in case.
"Tea," she said finally. "No sweetener."
The girl nodded and retreated. Nyssa leaned back, loosening her cloak but not removing it. She liked the weight. The coverage. The reassurance.
She still didn't understand why they'd made it out.
Why the wards hadn't held. Why the traps had disarmed themselves. Why Jack had walked through the whole thing like he'd done it before. And more importantly—
Why she let him.
He was a distraction. Plain and simple.
And yet, every time she tried to put distance between them, the universe seemed to nudge them closer.
The tavern door creaked open.
She tensed.
Then relaxed.
Speak of the devil.
Jack stepped inside like he owned the place. Sunlight hit him from behind, backlighting the idiot in soft gold like some dramatic bard's tale. He squinted around, then saw her and grinned—actually grinned—and wandered over like this was some kind of morning date. Granted that it was well into noon.
"You left me," he said, sliding into the seat across from her without waiting for an invitation.
"You were snoring."
"I sleep well. It's not a crime."
She didn't answer. Just stared.
Unbothered, Jack grabbed a crust of bread left abandoned on the edge of the table and inspected it like a curious bird. "What's the plan?" he asked. "We pretend to be a married couple and milk some sympathy out of the locals?"
"Try it," Nyssa said coldly, "and I'll actually murder you this time."
Jack gave a mock wince. "Oof. Romance dead on arrival."
The tavern girl returned and placed a chipped mug of tea in front of Nyssa. She lingered near Jack for half a second longer than necessary, then left when he didn't acknowledge her.
Nyssa noticed.
Jack didn't. Or pretended not to.
"Sleep well?" he asked jokingly, resting his elbows on the table.
She took a slow sip of her tea. Bitter. Just how she liked it.
"No" she muttered.
He perked up. "Nightmares?"
"Worse," she said. "It's only been half an hour since we got here"
He blinked, his plans of a bad joke in utter ruins. Then gave her a slow, lopsided smile. "Wow. You're full of sunshine today."
She hated how easily he got under her skin.
"You always talk this much in the morning?" she asked.
Jack shrugged. "Only when I'm sitting across from someone who looks like she's imagining how to kill me without making a mess."
"Poison's clean," she said, sipping again.
"Noted."
They sat in silence for a few seconds. The tension between them wasn't exactly hostile—but it was charged. Like they were two swords just close enough to spark.
Nyssa's eyes drifted to the edge of his collar. Still wrinkled. Still unkempt.
Still stupidly charming.
She cleared her throat. "We should leave soon. Towns like this, they notice strangers fast. The more they notice, the more questions they ask."
"And you're not good with questions," he said.
"I'm not good with people."
"You're not so bad," Jack said, watching her. "You let me live."
"That's temporary."
"Still counts."
She sighed and leaned back, letting the warmth of the tea settle in her chest.
There were a hundred reasons she shouldn't be sitting here. A thousand more for why she shouldn't let herself feel even an ounce of comfort in his presence. But—
There was something about him.
Something that made her shoulders loosen when he spoke. Something in the way he looked at her that didn't feel like scrutiny or pity or fear.
It was not like he wasn't smart enough to be scared of her.
That, more than anything, might've been why she hadn't left him behind.
Jack stretched in his seat, arms overhead. His shirt lifted slightly, revealing a flash of his lower back—lean, marked with a faint scar she hadn't noticed before.
She caught herself staring.
Turned her eyes away before he noticed.
Too late...
Jack leaned forward. "Something on your mind?"
"You talk too much."
He grinned. "Still counts as a compliment."
Gods, he was insufferable.
But as Nyssa took another sip of tea, letting the bitter flavor mask the warmth rising to her cheeks, she realized something she hadn't been willing to admit before.
She didn't hate having him around.