Corvayne stared at the wooden box in the corner of the ruined house as he tried to recall all the worst case traps on opening a chest. He had to make sure nothing happened to Wick. As for his own safety: He could take a lot more punishment then most people. While the idea of a treasure chest seemed pie in the sky for him, he had taken a course on trapped chests. Everyone in the class despite being told to use the term lockbox just called them treasure chests. What treasure was waiting out in the desert that they needed to know that? He had no clue. Why did he pay attention in a class that he thought was an elaborate practical joke? No use thinking about it either. He turned to Wick “Can you step three paces out of the door? I'm going to use my spear to unlock it and I might need room to exit the house fast.” She shrugged, but moved out of the way.

He first gently prodded the lid of the chest. No response, just some wood splintering. Bumping it with his spear, rotating it on its corner... no response. The chest was not tied to the floor nor heavy enough that he couldn't move it. The next step was to use a foot to push it closer to the door. It was heavy, but he could push the corners and sort of rotate it across the uneven stones if he lifted the corner with his foot a little. Stepping into the door frame, he used his spear to prod the lid, then undid the handle by lifting the latch with the very tip of his spear, then pried the lid open a little, then flipped it up and jumped outside in the same motion. No explosion or spikes or growing arms and legs or acid clouds. He went back into the house after a minute and looked inside of the chest. He saw a worn sack, a wreath made of blue and red branches, a short sword in a leather sheath, and a pair of gloves.

Sack aside, they all looked new aside from a slight layer of dust. The sword, when drawn from it's dusty scabbard, gleamed and was made of a metal with a slight teal coloration. The gloves were soft and supple leather, and seemed to expand when he picked them up. The sack had shiny coins, some silver, mostly copper, but at least a gold piece mixed in. The wood wreath felt warm to the touch.

Wick's eyes lit up. “Loot!”

“We should probably test it all on something we don't mind being cursed or...”

Wick took the gloves and put them on then wiggled her fingers. She touched the ground with them, and laughed when they stuck to the ground for a moment. She tried on the wall then. “They stick when I want them to!” She put her fingers on his bare forearm and activated it, Then tried pulling the glove away. When she released it, it yanked hair out with it.

Corvayne winced then sighed. That was the suicidal way to test magic items. Just put them on and see what happens.

She took the wreath next and put it on. “Oh this is NICE.” She took it off and offered it to Corvayne, who tried it on his own head and felt some of his aching muscles relaxing. Taking it off, some of the stiffness returned. Nifty. Thinking about curses from his books: the entire point was to deter and punish thieves or act as a tool for assassination. On one hand: The chest had been put in a spot that couldn't see that much traffic. It was hidden rather then secured. Perhaps it was a cache. But the objects inside were portable and had no reason to be just left sitting out. Though, given the red and blue wreath, they were all made from things in the dungeon. There were dungeons that were intelligent and tried to 'carrot and stick' people into going through them. He decided to go along with Wick and just test the sword. He swung it and for a moment there was a chill in the room, the arc of the blade leaving a few snowflakes swirling in it's passing.

“Corvayne you're doing it again.” She had been watching for something interesting. But he hadn't connected it to a skill in his head.

Corvayne thought for a moment then offered the blade to her hilt first. “Try it.”

She stabbed out and he saw a whisper of frozen mist follow the path of the blade, the air once more chilling in the room. He also noted she had pretty good form compared to how sloppy her knife work was. Wick jumped up and down. “Magic! It's not just weird dreams, I can do magic! Oh my god! Hahaha! You have no idea what this means to me!” She laughed and swung it again.

“Wouldn't it prove the paranormal exists?” He assumed that would make her happy, but it actually put a damper on her mood. She looked at the blade.

“Proof is something to be shared. A magic sword is something to be coveted.” she put it back in it's sheath.

“It will certainly help us get out. Why don't you take it?”

“Borrow this? But...” She looked at him and sounded... displeased? He might be having more and more problems reading her because he was tired.

“Not borrow. Use.” Corvayne clarfied. “When we get out, I can even train you.”

“Are you... Are you just giving ME the... magic sword?” She looked stunned.

Corvayne nodded at her. “The gloves and sword... I'll take the wreath as it might help me stay fighting longer. If you need it, I'll let you use it of course. But you need a weapon with a little more reach, and the gloves will help you if you want to climb out of a fight. Also, it seems like those items make you happy. You said partners before so if this split isn't to your liking we can renegotiate. I don't know if anything but the coins can be sold... this magic sword might be a... a... warp drives kind of problem. We will worry about that when we are out of here. You need a reliable melee weapon, and I prefer the spear. More importantly, I want to make sure we are both happy if we are going to be working together.”

She was looking at the blade, then at him. “You won't want it back later?”

“No. It's your share of the loot.”

Wick adjusted her glasses and stared at him, then the blade. Then back at him. “Hmm.”

He didn't know what she was thinking at that moment, or really most moments. And he felt the lingering cold in the air wasn't just from the blade: Dusk falling had dropped the temperature further. “It might get really cold tonight. I'm going to get firewood and some more stakes to block the door before it's too dark. I won't go far.”

Only a few steps from the door were plenty of trees. Using [Cross Skill: Chop] He got to work. Chopping helped him think about what he wanted to do after he got out of the dungeon. Using chop got him sweating by the second tree and he took his shirt and cloak off. The light had shifted from the sort of golden amber under the treeline to a deep orange. He just found trees and chopped them down, splitting the logs on stumps or just using thin saplings as stakes.

Wick came outside and stopped when she saw him. Corvayne politely ignored her and focused on chopping as she walked into the brush, then came back a little later. She helped him carry some wood into the house, then watched as he fed the cooking fire and pulled out rope lashing stakes and wedging them into the dirt outside the door to form a crude wall blocking off the only opening. He put his shirt back on as he had cooled off in the night air.

The little house glowed with warm fire light as the orange outside faded to a dark purple. Sounds of owls and crickets sang, and the moon came out to add a little silver light from the windows. Two moons actually: more proof that they were in a different world then home. Wick was sitting near the top of the stairs, perhaps lost in thought. She had taken her boots and raincoat off, as well as her olive jacket. She had a white sleeveless undershirt on, and had placed the sword and sheath next to the little pillow the roll came with. She then took her glasses off, set them on the window sill, then went back to what he guessed was thinking. He kept working on the stakes to secure the door. When he was done driving them in place he looked back. She was watching him. When she undid her hair, Corvayne instantly felt guilty at what he started thinking. He turned back to the fire, hoping she didn't figure out what he had just thought about. How pissed had every other girl been at him looking a little too long?

“It's pretty cold at night.” She stated.

“Oh, if you need it, you can have the bed roll and blanket tonight. I'm used to stone. We can take turns on watch but I think the fire and gate will keep things out. I am a light sleeper, so if you don't want a watch I'll be enough.” Corvayne was blabbering, his thoughts stuck on what Dawn had said. Both things. One with Wick not trusting people, the other thing with the carrot peeler. He had been leering at her too much, and now she was uncomfortable. She had said she didn't want to date: this wasn't a date. He was doing a job! A job for a dinner together as payment, but not a date anymore.

“Corvayne.”

He was her bodyguard. That also meant protecting her from his own confused desires. He laid down on the bumpy stone ground, pulling his boots off, then used his back to try to get his cloak wadded up on the stones. Laid out right, he could keep an eye on the door from near the fireplace. He then sat up unhappy at the ground, picked up his cloak, put it down closer to the fire, tossing another log on it while he was at it. A little better, even if his front was cold the warmth on his back...

“Corvayne?” Her tone was suprisingly calm. She was almost always loud.

“Wick, everything ok?” He started looking around the darkened room, then up to her.

“Come here.”

He got up, tempering his own heart beat. She was sitting up in the bed roll. Her hair looked a billion times better when she let it out of the braids she kept it in. It was the same person as before, with dark circles under her eyes his main proof, but she was so damn pretty.

“What can I do...” He squatted a good two steps down from the landing but she pulled him on to his his knees by his shirt. He had a terrified feeling he had pissed her off like everyone else in his life.

“Did ANY of those girls ever fuck you?” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“What?! Uhh... no... I've never been with anyone.” He was still stunned by the question. Then he got embarrassed.

“They were real bitches.” She muttered. Then there was more staring and she let his shirt go. Corvayne could see her eyes dart to the side while she was thinking, looking at him, thinking again, then coming to a conclusion with a small nod.

Wick leaned in even closer, hands propping her up. There was enough light from the fire to see her freckles. Her eyes were dark pools reflecting the fire lit bricks down the stairway and the blue of the moonlight hitting the window behind him. He noticed she had dropped the usual scratchy quality she had when speaking. It was as smooth as butter to his ears.

“Listen very carefully. I do not date. I do not trust people. The bad stuff that happened to me means I am miserable all the time. I cannot handle a relationship. I barely love myself. If not for your weird vibe, I'd never gone alone with you. If Grunt wasn't trying to hook me up with you and especially if not for you saving my life, I'd not sleep near you. I'd have slept in a tree.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then continued while looking directly into his eyes.

“I actually somehow trust you. When we get out of this, I really hope we can be friends and business partners. I don't want that to be put into jeopardy. Are you picking up what I'm putting down so far?” Her stare was really intense. Corvayne had to look away because her cleavage was also right there. She'd be furious if she knew he was thinking about how soft the fluffy top of her bra looked.

“Yeah it's ok! I'll make sure to stay down the stairs so you can...” She took his head and gently pulled it back to her so they were face to face. She lowered her voice even more, her calm voice becoming an almost purr as she spoke.

“Corvayne, when we get out of here, I'm going to hook you up with a bunch of girls who really, really, want you to go have ice cream with them, or carry them around like a princess, or go on walks in the park where there are not monsters. If they are not totally fucking blind they will drag you back to their place and fuck your brains out.” The word fuck coming out of her mouth in the low voice she was using caused his whole body to tense up.

“Date one of them, all of them in secret, all of them in the open. They will make you very happy. Have some fun dates, break a few hearts until you figure relationships out. I will do everything to help you. But I can't be that to anyone.”

She paused, looking him in the eyes as if to make sure it was sinking in. It was nice that she'd help him out, and he got that she didn't like him like that, but he couldn't figure out where she was going with this, and it was a mixed message with her face this close. He was about to speak when she kept going.

“I am a fucking mess. You are an unrelentingly polite killing machine that has the social experience of a ten year old locked in a box aside from reading apparently nothing but dung... D and D novels. You were abused every day of your life, don't argue, every day of your life. You are also fucked up. When we get out of here I want to be friends. Partners. Friends with benefits. Maybe roommates. Who knows. But no dates. No hand holding. No kissing. No romance. I worry you're too nice and you'll do something that will make me knife you. I have hurt people I liked before. Can you deal with that?”

“Yeah, I'm sorry, I wont bug you, I only asked Grunt about going out with you because I-”

“No shit. Shut up. Listen. I didn't know your deal before. And now? You need a real first girlfriend. Needed one years ago. Someone you fall in love with, maybe have a cute couple months holding hands, then you both give each other your first time or she's lying to be nice, whatever. I want to be clear: I cannot be that. Do you understand?” She actually looked more pleading then harsh.

He nodded, a little defeated but still feeling a weird tension in the air.

“So. When we leave this place, you are welcome to think whatever you want about me, just don't fucking bother me about kisses, tender hand holding, going on dates, if you can marry me, if I'll wear a dress. All that... Just take all that shit, and throw it in the garbage can. I like you as a person enough to NOT saddle you with all my baggage. With my story... If I start telling you my story, Run. Put your fingers in your ears. I don't care if you wanna ogle my scrawny ass or stare at my tiny tits, just no couples shit ever.”

Her talk was sort of backfiring: Now he REALLY wanted to know what was wrong. It made him glance down at her bra again too. Eyes up warrior! He was in control of himself. Wick wouldn't talk to him if this wasn't leading up to something important.

“You are not the kind of guy I look for. I want disposable. You are indispensable. You need things I can't give you.” She was trying to get to a point.

Corvayne tried to pull back from her. The compliments actually hurt as much as anything the girls at the village said because he was sure she was trying to explain why the one thing he really wanted was impossible.

He wasn't ready at all for her to lean in and kiss him. She just suddenly had her lips against his. They were warm and soft and confident. She opened her mouth to pull on his own lips a little then she pulled back. She stared at him and kept talking in soft, calm, steady tone somehow blasting through a tangled snarl of exuberance and nervousness and disbelief.

“Tonight, right now, I am off my meds. If I'm not totally exhausted before I go to sleep I'm going to have nightmares all night.”

Corvayne stared at her and she looked back. She bit her lip, then looked off to the side. Then she went back to looking directly at him. She looked annoyed again. Corvayne didn't dare move or speak here. Then Wick snapped.

“Ok, FINE. Look. I've been watching you kill and spill blood all over to protect me and get covered in blood hunting for me and you are feeding me meat and then the sword too? You gave me a fucking magic sword!? Taking your shirt off to FUCKING chop WOOD?!? You! It is YOUR fault I'm really fucking horny! Stop gawking at me already and take off your damn pants!!!”

She didn't give him the chance to do anything else besides nod before she pulled her shirt off, undid her bra, then frantically pulled Corvayne on top of her.