At Maisie’s prompting, Cas followed Iris through the door and took a look around the small home. Like the Nox-Fleurets’ house, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Most of the space was mashed into one multipurpose room, the design of which was considered outdated in the capital. High borns often invested a portion of their annual incomes in remodeling to keep up with the latest interior design trends. He didn’t expect commoners to do the same though. Installing new flooring and countertops once a year was a luxury exclusive to the richest of the rich. In a way, Maisie’s apartment had its own charm because it was uniquely quaint.

He ambled over to the sofa and veritably collapsed onto it, worn out from the walking they had been doing that morning. Objectively, they hadn’t really traveled [i]that [/i]far, but since his body was expending energy to recover from his collective injuries, it felt to him like they’d been hiking through the city all day. He had only just started making himself comfortable when Maisie’s comment made him stiffen guiltily. Immune to his own odor, he hadn’t even thought about the fact that he and Iris didn’t smell very good after they’d spent the night on the run. He was probably even worse off than she was, since he’d preluded the bomb shelter by spending a few days in a basement cell.

Not wanting to ruin their hostess’s furniture, he stood back up and lingered off to the side while the others discussed who would shower first. As he listened to their conversation, he was surprised by Maisie’s observational skills. He was practically swaying on his feet with exhaustion, but he was covered from his neck down to his feet in his hoodie and jeans. None of his wounds were visible aside from the scratch and bruise on his cheeks, yet she had picked up on his discomfort and offered medicine to ease his pain. He glanced at Iris, wondering how much she’d told the other girl before they had arrived.

When it was settled that Iris would shower first, Cas seated himself on the floor in front of the sofa, using the furniture as a backrest instead of soiling the fabric by reclining on it. He was eager to soak under hot water—it would sooth the ache of his bruises—but he was glad that he was going to be showering after her. Maisie had been right when she’d said he couldn’t stand up for much longer. Although he wasn’t used to letting others make decisions for him, he was content with the outcome they’d chosen and took advantage by resting his legs while he could.

At the sound of the girl’s voice, he looked up at her with a mixture of quite gratitude and intrigue. She was quite hospitable, but based on the types of food she offered, he suspected she didn’t have much more food than Iris had in her home. He didn’t want to take much if she couldn’t spare it. [color=#b97703]“Just… whatever won’t be too much trouble,”[/color] he answered, leaning back against the sofa’s edge and resting his hands in his lap. [color=#b97703]“A glass of water would be lovely too.”[/color] During their walk, he’d sipped at the water Iris had given him, but it was hard to swallow, especially after he’d made the connection that she’d gathered it from the river. He couldn’t help but think of all the algae and bacteria swimming in it, and the concern of getting sick had stifled his thirst.

[color=#b97703]“So, you were friends with Iris before she lost her memory?”[/color] he queried in an attempt to fill the silence with small talk. He didn’t want her to think he was rude when she was going through so much trouble to help them. However, he realized belatedly that Iris may not have told Maisie about her amnesia. [color=#b97703]“I mean, did she—?”[/color] he cleared his throat awkwardly, praying that he hadn’t said something he shouldn’t have. In a lower voice, he finished the question: [color=#b97703]“She did tell you about that, right?”[/color]