[h3]An Apple a Day...[/h3]
[sup]with sweet sexy [@Leidenschaft][/sup]

[indent]
“Are you still placing wagers?” came a resonant voice from the shadows of the camp as a figure moved out from within them and into the light beside Janus. As night carried on, it appeared that most had either taken themselves away for the night, or were continuing with last minute preparations. Reinette was too restless. She had prepared three times over at that point, all that was left was to wait for the break of dawn. Until that moment arrived, she couldn’t focus. “I have a coin or two of my own that I might wish to put on the table,” she smirked, narrowing her eyes in her mischief.

“I do wonder who’ll swing the axe on Hruldan in the end…” she sighed melodically, running a finger across her lip. “Don’t know that it’s going to be you. Lots of horses in this race.” The woman turned slightly to face him, to catch any glimpse of expression that would cross his face in the glow of the evening.

Janus had wondered whose footsteps were coming closer to him. An old habit he’d never break, simply because it had proven useful time and again to be constantly aware of his surroundings. And another thing that had proven useful was always being ready. Reinette had come around the side of his favorite sitting tree, he’d already unsheathed and tucked his knife under the bag of apples that squatted beside him. Even so, he was all smiles, “I do hope you’re betting on me.” Janus winked, “And if you’re not betting on me, tell me who everyone is so I can throw a few coins their way before taking the fall myself.”

He winked again, smirking as he bit into his apple. He chewed thoughtfully, looking past and away from Reinette until he swallowed, “You know, I was one of the first to come over to Isobel’s side when she came Skingrad’s way. Been loyal then, been loyal now. Know about almost everyone in this camp.” Janus nodded, sucking his teeth, “Don’t know you though.”

Janus cracked a teasing grin, wondering how she’d react to him, “Reckon I’d like to.” 

She was almost tempted to chuckle, but settled for a slight unimpressed quirk of her brow instead at his choice comment. Reinette had watched him around the camp enough to know he spoke the truth, and so decided that she could share at least something with him. “As you wish,” she began to walk to his other side to take a seat, she answered him. “I was a Skingrad court advisor and physician, I’m now an informant to Isobel, and I’m still a colleague of Robespierre.

My coins are on the Orsimer, by the way” she added after a pause with a flash of a smirk that lit up her eyes - gesturing to Durzum. “Can’t say I know you enough to place any wager on you, so tell me, why do you think it will be you to get to him?” 

“Oh, you shouldn’t take me so serious.” Janus spoke, taking another bite from his apple and chewing thoughtfully for a bit, “Mostly I just didn’t care for how the Orc presents himself as some dour patron of war when the only battles we’ve fought so far are scaring underpaid caravan guards away from their cargo.”

“He’s right,” Janus shrugged, “Not denying him that, but look at this army of ours. They’re wearing helmets that used to be nails and pots a few weeks ago, half of them don’t  even have a shield.”

Janus looked around at their great revolutionaries milling about and making the last preparations for the assault to come by morn. Even the Irregulars were better equipped before the Baron shoved his fat belly through their commander’s tent flaps, “Every little bit of optimism we’ll need in the morning. Every little bit of thought about victory being had.” Janus looked back at Reinette, his smirk reappearing on his lips, “Plus, I like disagreeing with him. Takes himself awful serious. I don’t, not yet.”

“How serious should I take you?” Janus asked.

“I don’t know. How serious will you take me tomorrow if I have to put your organs back in?” Reinette said, a wry smile at the end of it curling over her lips. Janus was right though, and she set her eyes upon them all too, the younger ones particularly. “Don’t worry of course, I’ll make sure to put them in the right place.”

“Sorry,” she whispered as she came closer to the man, leaning forwards to grab an apple for herself too. “Not very optimistic of me…” with a darker smile, she took a bite and leant against the tree — casting her gaze towards everyone else again. “We won’t all make it. No guarantees I’ll make it, either. But we’ll win.”

“Oh, that’s the spirit.” Janus droned sardonically, “And that is why I’ll be sure to keep you as my closest friend. If I get opened up, I’d like to trust you not to get any ideas over something I’d said before then while you’re zipping my guts back up.”

He gestured to her and then the apples, “Off to a fine start, yeah? Reckon we sit here long enough with these apples we’ll have no secrets between us anymore.” Janus smirked, “Probably.”

“Keep eating those apples all night and you’ll not be able to get over the wall come morning,” she chuckled. “Go on then,” Reinette added, coming down to her haunches until she let herself sit. “Let me in on a secret. Show me yours, [i]maybe[/i] I’ll show you mine.”

With a smirk of her own, she took another bite from the fruit. It wasn't quite ripe, and had a sourness to it that was delightful and she could help but savour it with a relaxed sigh. “This could very well be our last chance to tell a soul.”

Janus chuckled, throwing his apple core away from them into the tree line, “Digging for secrets?” Janus smirked at Reinette, looking her over in the dim light of the early morning, “I’ll tell you one. Somewhere in Hammerfell, there’s a chest filled with gold looted from Rihad during the Crisis, way back.”

“I know where it is, the map’s tattoo’d on my stomach. Perhaps you’ll see it one day if we know each other for long enough.” Janus shrugged, “If our bond proves strong, I’ll take you with me to find this gold, and we’ll not have a worry the rest of our days.”

Janus looked at Reinette, his eyes turning wistful as he held her gaze. He spoke low, his voice deep and husky in the quiet of the morning, soft enough for her to have to listen closely, “No, just a jest.”

“And if you get sliced in half tomorrow, when I’m done putting you back together the x might be in completely the wrong spot.” Reinette gave him a quick glance, but whatever tale he was trying to create didn’t elicit any excitement in her, the opposite even. “We’ll end up in The Reach,” she joked back, laughing dryly.

“Besides, if you took me to this supposed pot of gold, I’d simply betray you at the last second and steal it all for myself,” she said impishly with a smirk. “I could be the richest woman in all of Tamriel.” The blonde took another bite and stared off thoughtfully, the battle on her mind. She thought of the ring back in her bag, somewhere. He’d made a similar promise. “Don’t really want gold,” Reinette admitted, leaning back into the bark of the tree. 

“I have a chest in Castle Skingrad,” she said quietly, reaching her fingers below her collar to fetch the chain from her neck and lift the key up. “I want what is in that chest,” she sighed, paying close attention to Janus, “more than anything else I can think of.” 

Janus looked at her curiously now, the change in her demeanor from teasing to wistful. To sincere. He held his gaze on her while she had her reverie, admitted to himself it was rude to stare and then kept staring anyway. In this light, right before a battle. Well, Janus was a man first and foremost, “What’s in it?” He asked, voice low and attention rapt for her answer, searching her eyes and face.

Reinette gave him a sidelong glance, breaking her own spell with a quietly simpering expression. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.” She wasn’t serious, not entirely anyway. Her eyes glowed with roguery and as if to add to her point, she pressed him in the ribs with the tips of two fingers as if they were a dagger she’d had up her sleeve the whole time. “So I shan’t spoil it,” she murmured before placing her hand back in the lap.

“What would you find in such a chest? If it was everything that you wanted right now?” her brow quirked upwards and she tilted her head curiously at him. Wondering if he would pull a card of sincerity, or of jest. She wanted to hear something real from the man, something real from anyone. 

Janus almost flinched feeling the tips of her fingers in his ribs. The spell of his rapt attention was dispelled and he chuckled. At her question he sobered some, looking at her again. As much as he wanted to brush her off, sidestep the question, something about her made him want to give something real. He kept his smirk, but his eyes turned wistful. She was quiet while he thought about the answer, and he remained quiet not knowing whether to lay a piece of his past bare. “Be hard to fit a palace in a chest, I think.” He smiled at Reinette, then brought his legs up and rested his forearms on his knees, toying with his hands and looking at the tattoos on his palms, “Baklava. Southeastern Hammerfell, they make baklava. It’s a sweet pastry, honey, mashed nuts and flaky crust.”

His wife used to make it very well. Over the years, as memory does, it escaped him slowly. He had forgotten her voice, but not her face. His daughter loved baklava more than he did. He found himself smiling wide like an idiot by the time he’d realized he was reminiscing on a life that wasn’t his anymore. He sobered some at that, “Some baklava.”

Reinette closed her eyes and nodded along with his words, sighing at the mention of the sweet food. “I know the one. Gives you a most satisfying tooth ache afterwards.” She loved the desserts of Hammerfell, her favourite being knaffeh. Then, surprisingly she started to speak openly too. “When I lived in Jehanna there was a cherry tree in my garden,” she smiled, making a motion with her hand as she spoke. “Beautiful fruit that always came out when the time was right. In my first year, one of the men took all of the cherries from my tree - the [i]entire[/i] harvest.” With a frown she turned and looked at Janus with a slightly sour expression before continuing. “A long time later he returned.”

She let the key fall back against her chest and smiled. “He came back, having distilled a brandy, flavoured by the fruit. Completely unique,” she reached a hand out and gently placed it on his forearm, “terribly expensive.”

With a smile, she bit into the apple again. “That’s what’s in the chest — amongst other things,” she clarified quickly. “Was always saving it for a special occasion. Doesn’t get more special than perhaps the very last night of my life now, does it?” Realising that her hand was still against his arm, she gracefully removed it and moved to tuck her hair back behind her ear. “Brandy and baklava.” 

Then she sat back, thinking of Jehanna and of the old  gentleman who made the brandy. Of the violet sunsets and the sound of the ocean at night. She was wistful too. “Those fucking swines have probably looted it,” she cursed eventually.

Janus was still bristling with nervous energy at her touch, left lingering. He snorted at her last remark, “We’ll get vengeance for it if they did.” Janus chuckled, “I’ve never been. Jehanna. My grandfather was Nordic, from there. Only knew stories of him and the place he was from.”

Janus was caught off guard revealing pieces of his life, chipping away at the exterior of coyness and smirks. But he couldn’t stop, didn’t really feel the need to. And that was dangerous in his line of work, “Brandy and baklava.” He muttered, nodding with a sincere smile on his face, no cheeky and teasing smirk, “That sounds lovely.”

He cleared his throat, “Well, I figure I should start making preparations. Make sure our boys’ gear is checked and ready. Akamon’s probably wondering where the hell I am.” He smiled at Reinette as he stood, dusting off his backside, “We’ll see each other after the battle. Hopefully I’m still pretty.”

“Hopefully we all are,” she muttered under her breath as he walked away. One last time, she looked out across the scene, much of it was a blur under her tired eyes and she could feel the slight swaying in her head of the last echoes of alcohol. 

That damned rum.

At least morning would be sobering, and so she chose to wait for it. [/indent]