A New Beginning

Reconciliation Part II: Red

"Prime numbers," you observe. "That'd never have occurred to me. Good thinking."

"Prime- what?" Arthur is already glaring down the newly unsealed, neatly square-shaped gap though it's much too dark to see and he goes to fetch his lantern. You kneel by the harpy and peer inside the hollow. A dull, soft luster meets your eye. Arthur returns, light source in hand. You tilt your head left, right and then left again, unceasingly changing the angle of observation to better see what lies inside.

"Nothing," you deflect. "Forget it."

Arthur claims from the cache one of its valuables, which he holds up close to the light. It's neither coins, nor gold or diamonds as you may have subliminally surmised but a pretty enough gemstone, nonetheless. Twinkles of algae-green with a turquoise tinge glimmer before you a sequence of delightfully animated, entrancingly lustrous winks. It seems too opaque and not of the right hue for an emerald or peridot. Might it be Jade, perhaps? Arthur must be pondering the same by the way his eyes remain transfixed on the vibrant green. Or is the nature and value of the stone itself of little interest but estimating its monetary value and whether or not it can, in fact, be sold as a precious gem to any fool willing to pay a costly price.

"Even when you compliment me you somehow manage to make me feel like a fool."

Upon closer inspection, specks and streaks of white leave you fairly certain it's merely an amazonite.

"Excuse me!?"

He twirls the stone in his hand, whereupon it finds its way to his satchel and he claims proprietorship of another. He does not elaborate, instead he deflects by debating amongst himself how to divide the valuables – a good two or three handfuls of gold nuggets along with half a dozen gems, between he and thee.

"Take it," you insist. "You can have it. All of it. Should cover what I owe ya."

He shakes his head to a half-cooked grin, twisted of incredulity. "You don't owe me anything. I ain't doin' this for money. I gave you money and clothes so you could be-"

"I never asked for your charity." The chide is met with a sour glare, which does nothing to deter you. "And I certainly never expected you to do all this for free."

He doesn't even try to hide that sting he must've felt radically softening his features so, or perhaps is unable to. His eyes lose their hardness and sadness emerge. You see a luster of forlorn yearn – the kind brought forth when recalling a memory with bittersweet fondness, a memory cherished dearly yet wanting to forget all the same... the kind brought forth when overwhelmed by want of that you know you can never have, a pain you've become intimately acquainted with over the last few days.

"Arthur?"

He seems to not hear you, instead being deep in thought, elbow propped onto his knee and staring at the gemstone in his hand with a hollow gaze.

"The day we first met, you said I was great company. Bet you ain't been thinkin' that for a while. I know I ain't been treatin' you kind and I'm s- I ain't good with people. Never was."

"You talk like that is unfixable," you rebut with a tinge and lilt far gentler than at any point earlier today. "Folk who truly ain't good don't go 'round announcing it with regret and misery in their voice."

That coil of incredulity and disbelief reverts. Indeed, it seems a rather intimate confidant of his, in particular as of today.

"That ain't what you said earlier."

"We both said some things to each other we didn't really mean earlier. Right?" As one tends to do when the folly of indignance and offended hurt is speaking afore sagacious, good sense.