The Hand That Mocked Them

Hieronymus finished his food, glancing at Kivvien every now and then. He couldn't understand why he was being so kind all of a sudden, especially after Hieronymus's nosiness with the journals.

He had to make a few corrections, places where his math was off, but otherwise his notes lined up well with each other.

"A successful day over all?" he asked

"It looks that way," he said.

He nodded. "I'd agree. We reached our destination on time, processed the demon quickly. Everything is going smoothly!"

Kivvien nodded. "We best get some rest."

"Certinly, sir. We still have a long way to go." He felt a shuddered of anticipation. "I can't wait to be home!"

Kivvien ignored him and laid down, choosing not to perch tonight.

Hieronymus settled himself in the corner so he had the wall to lean against. "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight."

He closed his eyes and adjusted his hat.

Kivvien was soon asleep, dreaming of home, his lab, his partner.

Hieronymus did not dream that night; he rarely did anyway, and when he did dream they were nightmares. He preferred quiet nights.

When morning arrived, Kivvien was already awake, quietly packing everything up. He had already moved the chests back to the cart and was now tidying up the room to prepare to leave.

Hieronymus slept late and panicked when he awoke with the sun already rising. He looked around wildly for Kivvien and saw him working. "I'm so sorry!" He gasped, cranking himself upright. "I didn't mean to oversleep; let me help!"