"Don't take too much of it," Bastien echoes in a mocking mumble. Their current guard might take away from that the idea that he doesn't care for Byerly, because she's busy shining her boots—or someone's boots, anyway—and doesn't look up to catch the flicker of affection on his face as he says it.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have eyes in the back of his head anymore than the guard has eyes in the top of hers. He misses Teren's glance while he's looking at Byerly, putting the apple to his mouth, scraping his teeth along the edges of the bite Byerly already took, leaving one bigger bite instead of a second new bite in his wake, and coming away with paper-thin shreds of fruit in his mouth.

He holds them there, sweet on his tongue. He glances over at Teren, but in the face of stoniness, it's By he tries to hand the apple off to.

"D'accord. The worst pain you have ever felt and lived to tell about," he says, in much the same tone he'd prompt everyone to share their first kiss or their favorite season. Only a little more tired. And slightly garbled by the apple he's still holding in his mouth, unchewed. "Tav?"