green bottle. He flipped open his knife and set about removing the wax sealing the cork. “Of course, I spent five years apprenticed to a cheese-maker, so just about
Agatha took a sip. It was sweeter than she expected. She passed the bottle back. “I don’t know about that. I was a lab assistant. For stick-to-your-clothes stink, I doubt you can beat your exotic coal-tar derivatives.”
Lars took a drink. He started to speak, and then began laughing.
“What?”
Lars shook his head. “Here I am thinking I’m going to impress a pretty girl by talking about the terrible smells of various loathsome cheeses.” He took another drink and handed Agatha the bottle. “Mighty suave, huh?”
Agatha cocked an eyebrow. “Well I
Lars stared at her for a moment, and then sheepishly looked at his boots. “Well, it’s not like I was lying.” He glanced at her again. “If you’re going to cynically analyze everything I say, then I might as well start talking about cheese again.”
Agatha rolled her eyes. “If that’s my choice, I think I’d prefer it if you stopped talking.”
Lars turned towards her. “All right.”
He reached out, gently pulled her towards him and kissed her. It was a slow, relaxed kiss, and yet Agatha felt her heart racing. When they stopped, she took a deep breath. “That wasn’t
Lars raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Is that a problem?”
Agatha opened her mouth and he kissed her again. This time the kiss was harder, and when they broke apart, Agatha could feel that her face was flushed.
“Wait,” she gasped.
Lars smiled. “I have been. This is what I was waiting for.” He leaned in again, and then checked himself. “You don’t like it?”
Agatha did like it. A lot. But there was something that was... not right—she tried to convince herself... “It... it could be an interesting experiment,” she whispered.
Lars paused, and then dropped into his madboy voice. “Don’t tell me you fear the experiment?”
With a small growl, Agatha mashed her lips to his. This caught Lars by surprise and he tried to pull back, but found himself held fast by Agatha gripping his vest. The kiss intensified and she pulled him even closer. Lars felt a small burst of panic and wrenched his face back, breaking the kiss.
Agatha looked at him. Her eyes flashed in heavy-lidded irritation. She pulled him back towards her—
“Stop!” Lars gasped out.
Agatha blinked in astonishment, realized that she was holding him fast, and released him so suddenly that he fell backwards.
Lars felt his heart racing like he had just escaped from some sort of trap. He looked up at Agatha, slightly disheveled, breathing quickly, with a bit of a wild look in her eye, and wondered if he had.
For her part, Agatha was analyzing what had just happened. She looked at Lars and realized that while he wasn’t that interesting intellectually, if he talked to her in his onstage voice, he could recite a bread recipe and she would do whatever he wanted. This disturbed her. On the other hand, it had been an exceptional kiss.
Suddenly, there was the sound of amused throat-clearing, and they turned to find Captain Kadiiski standing on the other side of the dying fire, seemingly fascinated with the cloud-obscured night sky.
He glanced their way, and seeing that he had their attention, bowed. “Good evening! Am sorry to be breaking up no doubt fascinating discussion of various intellectual subjects, but it is my turn to stand the watching.” He paused, “So when did someone steal Master Payne’s wagon?”
Agatha and Lars whipped about, and seeing that all was well, glared at the grinning mechanic.
“Very funny,” Lars said sourly as he offered Agatha a hand up.
Kadiiski nodded. “It is that.” He tipped his hat to Agatha. “So! Are you offering stimulating conversation to all of us lonely watching men?”
Agatha blushed. “I... ah...”
Kadiiski guffawed and made shooing motions. “Off with you both before I am made dead from the cuteness.”
They did. From the inn, a song about the Storm King, accompanied by much table pounding, boomed out from the open doors. A local staggered out and was exuberantly sick.
Wordlessly, they turned back towards the wagons.
All too soon, they found themselves at the foot of the Baba Yaga’s ladder. Tentatively, they kissed. It went on for some time.
Finally, Lars took a deep breath. “Okay. I gotta... I gotta go grab some shut-eye.”
Agatha nodded, and with some difficulty, removed her hands from Lars’ vest. “Right. Say good night to Herr de la Scalla for me.”
“Oh I won’t see him, I’ll be bunking under one of the wagons.”
“What? Why?”
Lars grinned. “Well, Pix has kind of moved in. I’ll be getting a new wagon soon enough, but it’s no big deal since I’m so used to sleeping outside anyway.” He paused, “Although, if you can think of a place I could stay...”
Agatha looked up at Lars and her breath caught. For a moment, the lights from the inn illuminated his profile in such a way that she was reminded of Gilgamesh Wulfenbach.
But it wasn’t Gilgamesh, and it never would be. She had run from him and made sure that he never came back. Ever.
No, it wasn’t Gilgamesh. It was Lars. A man who liked her. Who... who wanted her, even though he knew what she was. She looked around. This was her world now, and Lars was one of the people in it. A good person. Maybe good enough...
All of this flashed through her head in a split second.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It sounds tempting. Really tempting. But...”
Lars knew when to push and when to fade. Sometimes you wanted a girl to be thrown a bit off balance. He gently ran a hand down her cheek and smiled. “—But that’s a big step. No problem.”
Agatha had been expecting a little more pressure. “Really? You’ll be okay?”
Lars dramatically put a hand to his heart and strove to look excessively noble. “I assure you that none will be disturbed by my weeping.” Agatha’s eyes narrowed, and Lars chuckled, lightening the mood. “No, seriously, I’ll be fine outside—”
A boom of thunder rattled loose objects as it rolled across the sky and a wall of rain crashed down upon them.
Seconds later, they were inside the wagon, clothes dripping. Agatha fetched a towel from the small cabinet under the washbowl and silently began dabbing it at Lars’ face.
“Or, I could stay here,” he conceded. Without taking his eyes off of hers, Lars nodded. “That bench seat should be comfortable enough.”
Agatha opened her mouth and he kissed her again. This was a forceful kiss, intense, but quickly ended. He pulled back slightly and waited to see how Agatha would react.
She tipped her head back—
A frantic hammering began upon the door, causing them both to jump. Agatha pulled it open to reveal a soaked and bedraggled Krosp. He marched in and stoically allowed Agatha to remove his dripping coat and towel him down.
“I feel most put upon,” he announced when she was done. “I am going to bed.” With that, he scrambled up the ladder.
Agatha looked apologetically at Lars. “Sorry about that.”
Lars snorted in amusement and leaned in. “We could wait until he’s—”
“Agatha!” Krosp’s head appeared in the opening. “Come and fold down the bed!” He disappeared again.
Lars paused. “Normally, overly-protective cats don’t bother me, but—”
“Agatha! Do we have any cheese?” Krosp peered down at them. “Bring up some cheese.” He vanished.
