"Well," he started, adopting some of his usual sarcasm, "I've just rolled my ankle in an extremely dumb way, and," he slowed his words at this part, taking a moment to sigh and give her a side eye before continuing, "and you and me have been off. And I don't like it."

Octavius opened his mouth to protest but then closed it. He’d give her that. He knew better now.

“I get it, but,” he said, quietly but insistently making his case, “can you consider who I am in all this? Don’t just be mad about it. You know me. You know my motive.” He shrugged, thinking maybe he was wrong. Maybe she had learned him all this time without truly coming to know him.

Octavius wanted to grab her and shake her. He didn’t, of course, but his nose scrunched up in the expression he would make if he did. Shake shake shake. Her little head would flop back and forth and maybe she’d gain sense… or maybe just bruise her neck.

“Not always.” He protested. “Sometimes a partner has to act in the good of the other partner, even if the other can’t understand the actions. That’s the part where trust comes in. You didn’t have to like the action but,” his voice got a little quieter, a little pouty, “you’re supposed to trust me.”

The depth of Kat's unexpected words struck Octavius so squarely in the chest that his feet slowed to a stop. The words were vulnerable. They were real. He felt as if she'd just shoved her hand into her own chest and exposed a little bit of her heart. His mouth remained parted slightly, and his eyes on her were large and puppyish.

"Kat..." It almost hurt to say her name. Because he could hear her hurt. Octavius wasn't a man who generated much emotion on his own, but he ingested that of his friends and adopted it as his own. He was an extremely empathetic fellow.

"Shit. Do you want me to start hating her too?" Because he was her soldier. She was his witch. They were in this season of life together. It wasn't battle, but it was still a kind of fight.

Octavius nodded, hearing her, accepting what she had to say, but there was still hesitance in his eyes. He turned his face mostly from her, then looked back sharply.

"You sure? I'll do it." He started to grin as he spoke. "I'll hate her guts for you. Because you," he extended his long reach, placing a finger gently onto her shoulder, "are my witch." He smiled sincerely at that.

Hmm. That was easy. And hating someone wouldn’t have been for Octavius, so her release of what he consider his duty as a pair was relieving.

He moved his finger away when she swatted it and pursed his lips.

“Well okay.” He continued on. They’d get to the fire eventually and then she’d have an opportunity to practice more of what she’d done that night.