Out in the Countryside

An Odd Evening

It was the end of the week and, as always, Arturia didn't work. Thus, she had to occupy herself with other things, which meant getting a hold of herself and refraining from kicking Lancelot out of her home. This kid had quite literally been teasing her for the entire week; he had not let Scáthach's words slip by at all. He had constantly been making comments on "Pretty Boy".

Currently, Arturia was seated on the couch popping strawberries in her mouth while she silently watched the television. She had pushed Lancelot towards the bathroom because he had completely omitted taking a shower for the past few days. He claimed it was having 'freedom' and 'no wonder' she loved the countryside.

The timer on the stove went off and she hurried to the kitchen for the food was most likely ready. She heard the water halt in the pipes and it was soon followed by the groaning of a door. She guessed Lancelot had left the washroom and was simply changing.

Ding!

"I'll get the door!" Lancelot called from the living room, his footsteps loud and echoing throughout the small cabin. It sounded as if he tripped halfway but caught himself before the fall. Soon enough, he opened the door.

Lancelot stood, his lips a straight line as his hair let droplets of water pool on the hardwood floor around him, after sliding past his pale torso, "Pretty boy!" He waved, his grey eyes lifting at the sight of the dark-haired boy.

Diarmuid, on the other hand, stood still—shocked. His dark brows were furrowed as he looked at the shirtless man in front of him. No words could leave his mouth at this point, his hands had hardened into fists and he clenched his jaw, nearly gritting his teeth, "Where's Arturia?" He finally spoke.

"Hello to you as well," Lancelot blinked and then turned, his hair launching water all about—even on Diarmuid, "Artiechoke, there's a man at the door for you. It's, uh, Daniel?"

"Daniel?" Arturia peaked her head from the kitchen, her eyes landing on a half naked Lancelot, "Put your shirt on, Lancelot." She growled and stalked to the door, giving him a glare.

The violet haired boy hurried away, missing the towel that the blonde threw at him. She slowly made it to the door, after sending another insult at her friend, "Daniel?" She finally set her eyes on Diarmuid, "I've told him nearly a thousand times that is was Diarmuid." She breathed as she shook her head.

Diarmuid's usually bright honey eyes seemed a little dull on this fall afternoon, "Lancelot? Artiechoke?"

Arturia blushed, her cheeks flaming as she immediately looked away, "Lancelot gave me that nickname when we were kids. We used to wrestle a lot."

"Who's Lancelot?" Alright, he knew it was not his place to be asking, but for some odd reason, he felt upset as something deep inside him twisted at the sight of the other young man.

"Oh," Arturia gave a nod, "Scáthach has yet to tell you? He is my best friend. He will be staying with me for a few days until I can convince him to return to London without me."

Lancelot seemed to have taken no time in changing and jumping into the conversation, "Actually, I will be succeeding in taking her back to London."

Arturia shot the violet-haired man an even look and then turned back to Diarmuid, "Anyway, you needed to speak with me?" She asked, leaning on the doorframe.

Diarmuid blinked twice, his eyes landing on Lancelot for a split second, "My sister wished to invite you over for dinner."

"Well," she mumbled, "I do have to take care of this kid," her gaze flickered towards Lancelot.