casablanca, ˚⊹ trent alexander-arnold

002. ❝curfew❞

"Trent." he smiled. "And you are?"

"Y-," Yara hesitated, knowing the Mansouri Palace would have her head in a guillotine if she threw her name around in the streets dressed like that; while fraternised with the public. "I'm Faiza." she lied, beaming at him fakely as she composed herself. "Nice to meet you, Trent."

Trent liked the way his name sounded in her thick, middle-eastern accent. Perhaps he liked it a little too much.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

002. - CURFEW

The two walked side by side, the Moroccan sunset smiling down on them as the cobbled streets gradually grew darker.

"So where is this magical bargain bazaar with amazing clothes?" Trent asked her timidly, wondering why he had trusted a hooded stranger in a foreign city lead him away from the only Moroccan streets he was now familiar with. For who even wore sunglasses, while the sun was barely to be seen?

He then realised, it was her disarmingly feminine voice that he had naively allowed to distract him from any and all safety training he had ever had in his life. The boy swallowed nervously, hoping that he was simply overthinking.

"Was the virtue of patience not a significant lesson of your upbringing?" Yara frowned, disturbed by his reluctance to simply enjoy the scenery unlike any other tourist she had come across. Until she realised that those tourists were usually in the presence of Yara, and not a hooded Faiza. "It's around that corner down there." she sighed in defeat, pointing to the end of the road that the two currently strolled upon.

"Damn, I was just curious." Trent raised his arms in mock defence, chuckling slightly. But he was still somewhat apprehensive. "So are you from around here?" he peered at her sideways.

"Yes." Yara nodded, trying to find an equilibrium between tight-lipped; yet reliable and unthreatening. She noticed how his curiosity had an edge of concern to it. "I live nearby to the first stall we were at." she grimaced at her disclosure.

Suddenly, a group of what seemed like teenage boys pointed at Trent and Yara, whispering between themselves.

The two both instinctively covered their faces and turned around; not before feeling simultaneously intrigued as to why the other did so. They faced the other way for a few moments, until they were sure the group of teenagers had departed from their vicinity.

Both Trent and Yara wanted to ask why the other had hidden, but remained quiet as they didn't want to invite any questions about their own desire for anonymity. And so they continued to walk in silence, merely brushing it off and assuming that the other simply didn't want to entertain any unwanted attention in a potentially dangerous city, at a potentially dangerous time of night.

Trent seemed satisfied with that conclusion, yet Yara narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Trent's physique. Why would you be afraid of a group of meagrely-sized teenage boys, when you can clearly defend yourself with ease?

"So you were saying," Trent nodded, encouraging her to continue. "You live over there, near the palace and such?"

"Sort of," Yara admitted. "What about you?"