Chapter 377: Other Than The Obvious.

Chapter 377: Chapter 377: Other Than The Obvious.

He starts to wonder what it says that Loac does none of these things, but a suddenly pleading look from Montrel stops him from delving too much deeper.

​"Oh, would you look at that," Rogard remarks conversationally, and Loac follows his gaze as he nods towards their table, where Montrel is looking the familiar brand of constipated specific to men who can’t dance.

"Looks like Xena wants to dance." Loac’s eyes narrow at him, and he resumes fingering at his mug.

​"...What do you want me to do about it?"

​"...Montrel doesn’t know this one," Rogard explains patiently, even though they both know that Loac’s gone and figured him out.

Maybe he’s really not the actor he thought he was. He’ll have to work on it. "...And I’m apparently just so terrible at it~" He’s pretty sure that even his biggest, most innocent eyes don’t work on Loac, but it’s worth a shot, and he’s rewarded for his dedication when, after a heavy moment of contemplation, Loac eventually rolls his eyes and sighs.

​"That’s the spirit, Loac~" Rogard chirps, and gets affectionately cuffed around the back of the head as Loac reluctantly levers himself out of his chair.

And after a beat, Rogard decides to follow.

​So he’s got a petty streak when it comes to Loac; what of it?

​"...Loac?" Montrel baulks, looking understandably concerned when Loac strides up to his table to interrupt his date.

"What are you –"

​"Pay attention," Loac interrupts, extending a hand to his cousin.

And then, before the poor princess knows what’s happening, she’s being whisked up and out of her seat and wheeled towards the clear space between the tables.

All it takes is a look, and the barmaids are right out there with them.

​As is Montrel, although he looks decidedly less excited to be there, especially with Rogard on his arm.

​"Wha – Rogard, what are you doing??" Montrel hisses urgently, making an obligatory show of resisting until he sees just how excited the princess looks.

Rogard figured. It’s not exactly the kind of song they play at the fancy parties up at the castle.

Like Loac, she’s probably not so much as heard it since she was a little girl.

Which is what she looks like right now, practically vibrating with excitement as they wait for the bards to send them their cue.

​"So you do know this one, Montrel!" she whispers excitedly, as Rogard manouevres the pair of them into position just in the nick of time.

​"I don’t," he assures her weakly, and while he immediately butchers the first three steps, he makes no further attempts to escape.

Loac gives them both a sidelong look and rolls his eyes, but the princess looks absolutely giddy to see them both there with her.

​"...You wanted to give Xena a real tavern experience, right?" Rogard points out to Montrel under his breath.

​"Well, yeah , but –"

​"No buts," he sniffs, "Don’t worry, it’s easy."

​"... So how’d you fuck it up so bad last time ?"

​Rogard steps on his foot. Hard, so that he knows it was on purpose.

​...

​Montrel has never felt so stupid in his life.

And he’s felt stupid plenty of times. A lot of them have had to do with dancing, come to think of it.

It’s not something that comes naturally to him, and not something he’s ever put much effort into perfecting. ℴ

He knows enough of the usual ones that get played up at the castle to get by in a pinch, but just barely, and this is definitely not one of those.

But as the music strikes up and they start to move, the smile Xena is wearing as they weave to and fro and spin in and then away, is the biggest and the brightest Montrel has ever seen, and he decides then and there that he’s going to learn it if it kills him.

​...

Rogard is really not sure what Loac is pretending to be mad at him about.

He would get it if Montrel was mad at him; he did hijack his date a little, after all, but he’s not because he knows just as well as Rogard does that Xena had a wonderful time.

She’d come off the dancefloor positively beaming , and while she hadn’t done anything as improper as hugging him when he’d winked and let slip that he’d thought she’d like that one, she’d called him Rogard again the way she used to.

Rogard had always complained when she called him that –it was so undignified –but he finds he doesn’t mind it so much anymore.

​"Watcha thinkin’ about Loac?" he inquires curiously, ignoring his own plate in favour of whatever it is that Loac’s got on his.

He’s still barely touched it, and he even ignores mess hall protocol by not making any effort to stab Rogard with his fork for trying to take it.

​"... Nothin ."

​It feels like a bad time to bring it up.

But it’s going to eat Rogard alive if he doesn’t ask, because no matter what Khobi says, he’s sure that he walked in on something this morning.

So really there’s no better time.

​"So what’s going on with you and Khobi?" he asks airily, gesturing with his fork at the vague smudges down his neck that Loac’s collar doesn’t quite conceal, "...Y’know, other than the obvious."

​"...Who says there’s anything going on?" Loac growls back at him; fingers tapping idly on the wood and his eyes narrowed but not quite looking at him.

​"But there is, right?" Rogard presses lightly, dipping his head try and catch his gaze. He’s not surprised to find him glaring at him.

​"There’s not." That’s what he says , but it sure comes out sounding awfully defensive.

Rogard mulls over this answer, and decides he doesn’t quite believe him.

​"...You’d tell me if there was?"

​"I wouldn’t."

​"Oh, so there might be?" Rogard chimes, just impishly enough that Loac shoots him an irritated look.

​" Rogard ." Rogard obligingly bites his tongue, still grinning. Loac is not. "...Like I said," he states flatly, wetting his lips, "...There’s nothing."

"...Do you want there to be?"

​Really, Rogard’s only joking –that’s what friends do, after all –and failing a spectacular overreaction like, say, for example, pushing him off a fence, he was at least expecting him to deny it.

What he wasn’t expecting was for him to not answer him at all.