Late Night Snack (Complete)

He’d been having fun, damn it. Now he had to think.

“At no cost”. No cost? Who in their right mind would offer anything for free? Perhaps this little woman, this La Belle Dame Sans Merci, was not in her right mind—but no, that was not a satisfactory explanation. Too tidy, too pat. Nothing was simple; nothing free. What, on the other hand, was the likelihood that she served those who wished to hunt him down and eliminate him? If she answered to them—found him, snared him—would she not have already made her move if she intended harm? He had put his back to her more than once, and she hadn’t attempted anything untoward. To what aim might she humor him in this garden, clearing it of loathsome loaves and of crosses that burned her hands? A ploy to convince him to loiter, buying time for reinforcements to arrive after a surreptitious summons, or an innocent game to a being that—by his estimation—appeared perfectly content indulging in a bit of mischief?

He grimaced. “At no cost”, hah. Trust in her word could cost him everything.

And yet he wanted so badly to trust her. To relax his hair-trigger paranoia and stop running for one rotten night.