The terse words certainly recontextualise Ekkehardt's actions - to some extent. Even he doesn't know whether he did such things because someone hadn't done the same for him, or it was simply a sense of duty, or some other stimulus yet to be considered. It's unclear, ambiguous, like most things about him.
"You can't be everywhere." He shrugs. "By the time I saw them again, I had little to say to them, and I was unrecognisable." His head tilts slightly. "Even to the person who had begged me to help him, to take his place, I was unrecognisable."
He still doesn't know whether that was a good thing or not. The fear would have stung more, perhaps, if there had been recognition. Or perhaps not. He doesn't know.
"So you did it as a favor and they still acted like that... Tch. You know it's not too late to make them regret what they did, right? If they're not already dead, I mean. I'll even look the other way."
He finishes patching one part of the garment and moves to another. "If you pick up some fabric on your way there, I'll even let you do one other devilish deed for free."
"Are you trying to be my moral compass now?" His mood has swung back to amusement, at least for a moment, though it's nothing like the sharp thing it usually is. It's vulnerability he can't seem to shrug off or discard, now that it's out in the open. "If I wanted to do anything that I thought your remaining sensibilities might object to, I just wouldn't tell you."
He watches Avery's hands, still, avidly interested. "Though if it's fabric you want, then that's easy enough to arrange."
"I've got plenty of sensibilities!" Avery huffs, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest. "Most of them happen to want fabric right now, but there are more beyond that, I assure you!"
Does he?
He's not sure. Strangely, it doesn't bother him nearly as much as it would have when he first left that cell. "As to the moral compass part of things, that's entirely up to how you see it, Ekke."
"Oh, we're up to nicknames now?" There's no bite to the words; it seems like a genuine comment. He's caught off-guard by it, really. "That's a dangerous path to go down. I might even think you enjoyed my company occasionally."
He had been content, serving at his lord's side, maintaining a distant but respectful relationship. They'd cared for each other, in their own way, but they understood that being close was foolish, when death was so close, and they had little else to lose.
(Still, he'd grieved. Still, he grieved. Another weakness.)
He still has very little to lose, now that his life is forfeit. This would be another weakness, another link that could be exploited.
He should remember that. But it's difficult to, when things are pleasant, when his guard is down.
Avery smirks, looking smug as ever and yet, somehow, pleased. "Let's just say you're not nearly as awful as I used to think you were. I'll let you know when 'enjoy' is on the table."
He laughs. "Could be worse, you know! I could have gone for 'bonehead!' You're practically begging for a flood of puns."
"Splendid. I can see your good mood has made you even more intolerable." He just sighs, shaking his head, but doesn't actually do anything to counteract that.
I'm not planning to get used to enjoying your company, so don't hold your breath, he almost says, and then, once again, holds his tongue.
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"You can't be everywhere." He shrugs. "By the time I saw them again, I had little to say to them, and I was unrecognisable." His head tilts slightly. "Even to the person who had begged me to help him, to take his place, I was unrecognisable."
He still doesn't know whether that was a good thing or not. The fear would have stung more, perhaps, if there had been recognition. Or perhaps not. He doesn't know.
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He finishes patching one part of the garment and moves to another. "If you pick up some fabric on your way there, I'll even let you do one other devilish deed for free."
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He watches Avery's hands, still, avidly interested. "Though if it's fabric you want, then that's easy enough to arrange."
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Does he?
He's not sure. Strangely, it doesn't bother him nearly as much as it would have when he first left that cell. "As to the moral compass part of things, that's entirely up to how you see it, Ekke."
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He had been content, serving at his lord's side, maintaining a distant but respectful relationship. They'd cared for each other, in their own way, but they understood that being close was foolish, when death was so close, and they had little else to lose.
(Still, he'd grieved. Still, he grieved. Another weakness.)
He still has very little to lose, now that his life is forfeit. This would be another weakness, another link that could be exploited.
He should remember that. But it's difficult to, when things are pleasant, when his guard is down.
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He laughs. "Could be worse, you know! I could have gone for 'bonehead!' You're practically begging for a flood of puns."
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I'm not planning to get used to enjoying your company, so don't hold your breath, he almost says, and then, once again, holds his tongue.