Hm? Why’d he look down—oh. He must have seen through her there. Well, then again, who was she to say his childhood was better? Sure she was bored, but at least she was safe.. She could only conclude that the grass was always greener, and neither of them enjoyed their life as a child.
She blinked out of her defensive state of mind. All of a sudden, she had Lovino’s arm in a death grip. She just stared ahead stupidly, totally stunned. He was able to grab his arm off, and she shook her head to snap out of it. She looked at him apologetically, “Szar, I’m sorr—”
She waited for him to finish his rant “I’m sorry, really. I just don’t like people touching my chest.” she tapped a surface on the cheese stall with her fingers, waiting for the uncomfortableness of the situation to pass. The Hungarian noticed him trying to nurse his bruised arm, which only worsened her guilt. She shook it off; predicting he’d rather not have her pity.
Erzsébet took the list and tried to read it, having just as much difficulty, but not showing it as much as the last time. In her peripheral vision, she checked on his arm. Not too bad, the bruises would heal easily. Damn, was she that strong? Nonono, forget that.
The next word on the list was…squiggly. She couldn’t quite get—oh, that was an S. Only three letters—S, A…
“Sal. Or Salt. Mm, it’s this way..” she grabbed the arm that wasn’t hurt, and led him past the throngs that was the normal crowd in the marketplace. She turned around a little while later to face him, “You okay?”
Lovino found himself tapping his foot again while the buttercup bastard squinted at Antonio’s merciless chicken scratch writing yet again. He looked around nervously; those goddamned English pirates were bound to be around here somewhere. He knew they were to head out to sea soon before his crew.
Satisfied with seeing none of the smelly dunces anywhere near, he turned his scowl back to Éliás. He was about to ask what was taking so friggin’ long when the flower-clad man announced their next item, grabbing his arm and leading him through the crowd. He was actually pretty grateful for this, not that he’d admit it. Lovino and crowds did not mix well. He preferred to be lazing about on his—Antonio’s quiet ship…with no one else around but a nice juicy tomato. Ah, yes.
Suddenly, after some hasty walking, the shorter man stopped and turned to face him with a furrowed brow. What the hell was that? He looked worried about something. Lovino was the one who should be worried, he stepped in some mysterious brown mush on the way over! Damn it all.
He cocked his head to the side, raising a confused eyebrow, “Huh…? Me? What do you mean ‘am I okay’?”
His eyes widened as he remembered, holding out his arm and squinting at the bruised skin, “Oh, you mean this?”
When did that get there? It looked a lot worse than it was; he wasn’t even aware of it until now. Ugh, goddammit, why did he have bruise so easily!?