Apparently you do, Alistair gnawed the inside of his cheek, something he did to keep his temper under control. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. He bit down a little harder, pursing his lips at the younger boy. Tristan leaned against the wall, green eyes hardened matching the cold stare. Both were persistent and stubborn, neither faltering for a time until Alistair lowered his gaze from the Prince’s. I’m not sure what to make of the fact that you seem to be making a bigger deal of who I am than I do... Alistair said nothing, shuffling a little bit. He felt like he was being scolded for something, though he did know why. He looked back to Tris, finding a grin on the boy’s face. Miss me?
“What’s it to you?” It came out more snappily than he meant it to. Being friendly was certainly not his strong suit. “...Shank.” He threw in in an attempt to sound somewhat less serious. The term was so familiar to him that he didn’t once think that Tristan wouldn’t know it. He rolled his eyes at his friend in response to what he brought up next. “Well, I guess we could quibble over terminology if you really wanted to...or we could get to some riding. Whichever you prefer.” As much as it might’ve seemed to any friend he’d ever had-- and those were few and far between --, Alistair didn’t try to be an argumentative, dislikable ass. He just didn’t like many people. Tris was one of the few he did like and it frustrated Alistair that he was being this way to possibly his only friend he did have. He’d never been good at making friends and he certainly didn’t want to lose this way. But he didn’t want to have the King and the stable master angry with him either. This job was possibly all that was keeping him out of jail and he wasn’t risking that for Tristan. Not at this point, anyway.
The two boys were more similar than either realized. Tristan’s feelings of suffocation mirrored those Alistair had felt a mere year before leaving the Maze and Glade behind, though his were caused by his friends. When he had damaged his shoulder beyond the Medjacks’ abilities to heal. He’d been forced to stay in the Homestead for months more than he needed to. Of course, he’d finally reached the end of his rope, gotten in a fight, and began running again. Even after that, his friends had bugged him to stop, causing more fights than he wanted it too. The two understood each other, even if neither knew so.
Do you know that deal doesn’t really work. Alistair sighed and looked at the ceiling. Jeez this kid was frustrating. “I’m perfectly aware, thanks. But, unless you want me to lose the job keeping me out of prison-- which, I may remind you, you gave me --I’d suggest you go with it and make things easier for both of us. You get me?” Tris dragged a finger along the dirt on Hal’s door, rubbing it between his fingers. It’s a pain in the arse that the only person who outranks me in this place is the King, isn’t it? The older boy nodded as Tristan finally relented. “You have no idea.”
Sam folded his arms and leaned over Arion’s stall door with a smirk. “Soooooo.... How are you enjoying yourself?” Alistair rolled his eyes. “Why do you care?” He shot back, adjusting the throatlash. He didn’t bother to look at the other boy. “I just think it’s odd that you should get to spend time with him. You’ve been here the shortest after all.” Alistair swung the door into him and walked out. “Jealousy is such an unbecoming trait.” he said pointedly.
Ready! The call came from behind him and Arion’s ear flicked back to the origin. Alistair whirled around to see Tristan’s back retreating into the woods at a canter. “Oi!” He shouted after the boy. He put one foot in the stirrup as Arion, always ready to go, began walking after the pair, held back only by Alistair’s grip on the reins. The boy bounced along for a few feet before managing to swing his leg up and over into the other stirrup. The horse beneath him was more than eager to race off and broke into a canter as well, speeding towards Hal who was much more control. Once they caught up, Alistair slowed to pace with Hal and Tristan. He looked to his friend, not quite knowing how to talk to him. It had been ages since the two had spoken and they lived very different lives.
“Sorry for earlier.” He said quietly. Apologies were not something he was accustomed to giving. “I just don’t want to lose this job, ya know. It’s the only thing I’ve got.” He gave Tris a sideways look, a grin lightening his face. “I may be a thief, but I’m still a man of my word. What exactly do you want to do?”
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