Tine's eyelids eventually grow heavy as he drifts off to the sound of the car starting.
For a moment, there is only darkness and the low rumbling of the engine. Then, the smell of burning wood fills Tine's senses as a soft orange glow illuminates the outline of a face.
Tine was laying down--presumably on the ground--curled up against something that felt like a bench or log of some sort. As his vision cleared, he realized that the face in front of him was familiar. The straight brows and long face belonged to Sarawat.
Tine realizes that Sarawat is smiling, small wrinkles forming in the creases of his eyes. His lips move - he's saying something, but for whatever reason, the sound fails to register. Tine hears nothing but a low rumble. Sarawat's lips part a little, and he notices something odd about the man's smile. He thinks that he might be seeing things, but he swears he notices a pair of sharp fangs protruding from his mouth-
"Tine!"
Tine's eyes fly open. Everything was much darker than he'd remembered, and he was sitting in Sarawat's car once more. His face was stuck with sweat to the leather seat, his body heavy with sleep.
"We're here," Sarawat said.
Tine squinted, vision still a tad blurry. He made out a foreboding wall of trees, a few benches laid out in front. A campsite.
"Camping?" He asked groggily.
"What, you don't like nature?"
"I'm not particularly fond of it, no."
"Maybe I can change your mind, then."
The ghost of a grin passes over Sarawat's face before he turns away to grab his keys. Moments later, Tine hears the click of the car doors unlocking and takes that as his cue to exit. He's immediately hit with the vegetal scent of the forest and wood. There's a warm breeze that passes through, and Tine's tense shoulders begin to relax. Maybe he'd enjoy this.
As Tine makes his way around the car to Sarawat, he jumps as the other man suddenly grabs his wrist. It's startlingly cold.
"What are you doing?"
"Practicing."
Sarawat continued to pull Tine along by his wrist, until the taller man digs his feet into the ground. They stop.
"There's no one watching us," he says, snatching his hand away, "you're being weird. And your hands are too cold."
Tine quickly strides ahead of Sarawat toward the campsite. The latter remains in his spot, gingerly holding his right hand as if nursing a wound.
"Hey, Wat! You coming?" Tine calls out when he notices him lingering behind.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sarawat breaks into a light jog to catch up.
