Forrestone
Camp, to Addam, is as thrilling a constant as their unexpected journey could possibly provide. With camp comes consumption, and conversation, and crafting, and all manner of unexpected delights borne of the communion of people.
Rest around a campfire also comes with time to really, legitimately rest, too. Whether there are enough blankets to suit or not, Addam will nab his forty dadly winks as best as possible, or contract back cricks trying. It's a noble pursuit, when you think about it!
At first, however, Minoth doesn't quite seem to see it the same way. He tucks in to their evening meals eagerly, and makes for some truly fine conversation, but he seems to prefer writing in relative solitude, and when it comes time to bed down, he spaces himself out away from the rest, not keeping watch, just contorting one appendage upon another and trying to tune out the noise of the environment.
As near as Addam can recall, the Flesh Eater does need just as much sleep as a human, if not more. Or maybe it's a complicated relationship between bursts of energy and the required bounceback to follow. Addam's torn between leaving it at that, mentally, and pressing for details upon details.
It's not like there would be anything he can do about it, really, to ameliorate the situation, if that's indeed necessary. Rich as he might be, he can't just arrange for the militia to bring them additional camping supplies. It wouldn't be timely, it wouldn't be humble, and everything would just as soon go to tatters, as they had to drag it from place to place.
Soon enough, they'll be in the capital, and that'll be better. They can stay in a nicer inn than Hyber, at the very least, if not the palace itself. Addam knows he'll have to be quite careful with what he suggests, as far as their lodgings, but depending on how careworn his travelers seem by the time they get there (and, much as he hates to admit it, Hugo's visible condition and court of mussiness will count for the most of all), it may very well be nothing but a necessity, to get nicer beds.
That still won't solve the whole problem if Minoth remains insistent upon sleeping on his own, though. Lora and Haze share eagerly, as do Milton and Mikhail, and even Mythra has agreed, after a year plus on the road and in the wilds, that body heat shared is body heat unwasted. Jin, of course, likes plenty of privacy and solitude, and Addam wouldn't begrudge the same to Minoth, but...
Well, he simply doesn't believe that the Paragon and the other, somewhat more distant relic of Torna (Addam is convinced that it must be so, though he hasn't ever said, or if he has it's been years since such folly) are truly that similar. Minoth is much more gregarious than that! Addam is determined to fix the situation to make him comfortable being so.
Lora really has trained him into a meddler, hasn't she? But it's all for the greater good!
All for Addam's greater satisfaction, come camptime, that he can spend some closer moments with the man who's determined they should act as Driver and Blade, in some capacity.
So there they are. The wind is rustling in the trees at the edge of Dannagh where they've stopped for the evening and night, the fraying blankets have been laid out over any particularly cold, slimy, or sharp rocks, and the fire has been struck up, thanks to Brighid and Aegaeon's efficient process. Aegaeon's even set about purifying the water from the lake nearby, so that they might have not just refreshment and hydration but perhaps even a hearty stew, besides - that new recipe they've just received?
It's looking to be a good night. Addam's unearthed his cloak from the bottom of their stores, and Mythra has accepted it with a smile and some genuine gratitude, since he'd seen her shivering. Haze has started plotting out the design for a new talisman, and Lora, sat beside her, is rummaging through her cluttered collection of supplies for materials she might use to fashion an embellished string from which to hang the little rectangle of embroidery. Hugo and Jin are discussing something of great seriousness, and the boys are doing "the same".
But Minoth? He's sitting by himself, staring up at the continued rustle emanating from the nature preserve.
If he's lonely, then that's Addam's responsibility, isn't it?
"Mind if I keep you company?"
Minoth blinks, summoning his concentration back to interpersonal interaction. "Isn't that what you're all doing?"
"Keeping each other company, yes," Addam says with a slight frown. "That's why I asked you."
"No, no." One finger traces the design on the cover of the cowboy's nicest notebook, now closed. "You're all keeping me company."
"Not if you sit by yourself," Addam argues.
"Community can be quite the stratified thing. For instance, in Hyber: they don't all live in one house together, but it's a small village all the same. For them, that's the measure of community. They all belong. It wouldn't be right, if you crammed them all in together."
"Well, but we're..." Addam flounders for words to combat this startlingly obvious statement. "We sleep together!"
"We do?" Minoth throws him an amused glance. "Is that a proposition?"
"I- well...well, it could be! It could be, if I wanted it to be."
"If I wanted it to be," Minoth corrects (Addam acknowledges this with a shamefaced nod). "But I'm not offended. I see what you're trying to get at, Prince, and it's nice. But I'm fine. Don't feel left out. Don't usually feel pressured, either. I'll circle in when the time is right."
"To me?" Addam asks, hopeful.
"To you," Minoth agrees, grateful.
Addam himself is grateful for a sleeping partner who knows how to make the best of an awkward position, and hopeful that they'll have a nicer bed to share, someday.