We can be friends

I'd just settled in on a set of wagon steps with my steaming bowl held like a prized possesion when Ramza began rummaging around the serving wagon for his evening paga. There was the usual banter of how are you's when I just blurted out the question of what was his favorite color. Now why is it that a Tuchuk cannot answer a question without asking a question? Why? Paint ... I was asking about what color his hand print should be. We spoke the same thing at the same time. He said brown or orange and I said he reminded me of an autumn leaf.

When he asked if I wanted to stop by that place we found I had to smile and tell him yes, I would like that very much. When he refilled his bowl he returned to sit on the step below where I was sitting. Oh yes, then I began to tease him terribly .. maybe we should bring Falon along, and maybe Aiyana and Akasha too. I was making a nice long list of folks to invite when he turned on me with a half close of one eye. Was I trying to set him up? What a delightful idea! Did he need to be? Cana and Tarra were excellent at that .. I could ask them to go with us. We were simply laughing by then when he got a bit more serious and said that he was good for now and I told him quietly that I was too.

The subject changed as I asked about how to teach a hot tempered boy not to be hot tempered without making him all girly. He said that was a question to ask one of the other women. So much for getting a male slant on things and the topic went to kaiila. Now that I can talk about all day. I was explaining about the different manuevers because Fonce had put a beast down because it didn't turn well enough to keep him from geting injured. I didn't want to see that happen again. I did offer to train Dracko but he said that he was good and they trusted each other. That was important. I ... didn't want to see him hurt either.

You could have bowled me over with a feather when he got up and took my bowl with him to refill when he got more paga. I guess I was still staring at him when he handed it back. What was wrong? Um ... err ... I blurted out that there wasn't anything 'wrong', I liked talking to him. He seemed pleased enough and said ... good .. he was a good listener. I could talk to him any time I wished. I was just about to accept that when he reached up to caress my hair. There I went again, bowing up all huffy, swatting his hand and telling him he could always come talk to me as well ... but ... not if he did that. I admitted that it was nice. It was enjoyable. But it wasn't right. He had this boyish little grin as he drew his hand back and said he knew .. he was being bad.

Damn right he was .. bad sleen ... no cookie.

I still laughing when I went back to the pens.