A friend. Yes, that was what Penelope had become to Crow over the course of their travels together. But what did that mean for their relationship? From what he knew, friends were people who relied on each other in tough times, who confided in each other their deepest secrets, who put each other’s needs before their own. Was he—a thief who relied on no one but himself for the majority of his life—really ready to follow through with such weighty commitments? It was true that he had helped the knight a few times before, but the thought of putting so much trust in her was unnerving. He had never put that much faith in anyone else before, so he wasn’t even sure how to start or if he even wanted to try. For now, he decided to continue with things as they were. If Penelope was worthy of his trust, she would be able to prove it to him eventually. Until then, he would only rely on her when he needed to, and he would keep his secrets to himself.

Crow was startled from his thoughts when Penelope leaned forward and playfully tousled his hair. He froze, surprised at her forwardness. Since when did she get so friendly with him? While they bantered often, she had never gone so far as to be physically rowdy. He was always the one who instigated those kinds of joking interactions. He smiled. Somehow, it pleased him to see her this comfortable around him. [i]Well, if she wants to mess around, we can mess around.[/i]

When Penelope turned around to walk back to the village, Crow snuck up behind her and slipped his arm around her neck, pinning the knight in a playful headlock as he tousled her hair like she had done to him earlier. “Who cares what William thinks?” he grinned. “That old grump is always mad about something. I’ve given up trying to please him.”