In the end, Jin wasn’t sure what had finally convinced Ahn-Bo-ah to agree, even though he knew it was inevitable. He’d been prepared for more of an argument, to have to force his friend to see reason— but this felt… too easy. Suspiciously so. Like something he ought to predict was happening before his very eyes but he was too blind to see what it was yet. Jin brushed the thought aside, wearily. He couldn’t look a gift in the mouth; he should just be glad and carry on before either of them had a chance to second guess. (Because he was still second guessing how much to share next, but it felt important.)
He followed Ahn-Bo dutifully as his friend took his hand and began to lead him through the woods. Bo-ah’s fingers were thin and calloused, like they’d been doing a lot more manual labour than he was used to, and Jin gave the hand a small squeeze as much to reassure himself as to reassure Ahn-Bo. It took everything in his power not to yank them to a halt and kiss him senseless, just out of an anxious need to be there physically, but this wasn’t the time. Fifteen minutes felt like days but eventually, they paused outside the mouth of a cave.
It took a moment for Jin’s slightly more sensitive eyes to adjust to the pitch dark of the cave. The smell was what hit him first, and he instinctively took a step back. This… was how Ahn-Bo-ah had been living for the past few months. The clutter, the scant necessities, the mess of letters— his letters probably (all unopened, Jin noticed unimpressed) — but worst of all was the reality that it was here where Ahn-Bo hid in all his shame and agony before and after the accident. He felt a wave of nausea roll in his stomach at the thought. Jin’s hold on Bo-ah tightened, but he tried to keep his face neutral as he plowed forward and yanked his friend along behind him.
The first thing he did — because of course, it was Jin — was waddle over to the place that looked like it had been used for a fire. He lit one there magically and squatted in front of it, crouched on his heels, but refusing to let go of his friend as he warmed himself. Jin felt the chill abate a fraction, and he softened around the edges as the heat brought forth a flush in his cheeks. “Machimnae,” he muttered, more to himself than to Ahn-Bo. Then, letting his bag drop to the ground, Jin forced himself to relinquish Ahn-Bo’s hand and pulled out a whole plethora of dishes and supplies.
There were bowls, chopsticks, a knife (which he’d stolen in secret), a satchel of fresh water, some herbs (many herbs actually) and a few covered dishes that the cook had begrudgingly given him. Jin set about heating the various dishes over the fire with his wand and then sliced up a few of the herbs to make tea. Spirits, what he wouldn’t give for a pot of tea! Then, sliding out a few of the snacks he’d hoarded from Maho, Jin turned towards his friend and handed them to him. “I made sure to steal extra honey cakes this time,” he offered, the hint of a real smile turning up his cheek at last. In domesticity, Jin found peace. They could forget about their situation for a few minutes while their hands were busy.
He followed Ahn-Bo dutifully as his friend took his hand and began to lead him through the woods. Bo-ah’s fingers were thin and calloused, like they’d been doing a lot more manual labour than he was used to, and Jin gave the hand a small squeeze as much to reassure himself as to reassure Ahn-Bo. It took everything in his power not to yank them to a halt and kiss him senseless, just out of an anxious need to be there physically, but this wasn’t the time. Fifteen minutes felt like days but eventually, they paused outside the mouth of a cave.
It took a moment for Jin’s slightly more sensitive eyes to adjust to the pitch dark of the cave. The smell was what hit him first, and he instinctively took a step back. This… was how Ahn-Bo-ah had been living for the past few months. The clutter, the scant necessities, the mess of letters— his letters probably (all unopened, Jin noticed unimpressed) — but worst of all was the reality that it was here where Ahn-Bo hid in all his shame and agony before and after the accident. He felt a wave of nausea roll in his stomach at the thought. Jin’s hold on Bo-ah tightened, but he tried to keep his face neutral as he plowed forward and yanked his friend along behind him.
The first thing he did — because of course, it was Jin — was waddle over to the place that looked like it had been used for a fire. He lit one there magically and squatted in front of it, crouched on his heels, but refusing to let go of his friend as he warmed himself. Jin felt the chill abate a fraction, and he softened around the edges as the heat brought forth a flush in his cheeks. “Machimnae,” he muttered, more to himself than to Ahn-Bo. Then, letting his bag drop to the ground, Jin forced himself to relinquish Ahn-Bo’s hand and pulled out a whole plethora of dishes and supplies.
There were bowls, chopsticks, a knife (which he’d stolen in secret), a satchel of fresh water, some herbs (many herbs actually) and a few covered dishes that the cook had begrudgingly given him. Jin set about heating the various dishes over the fire with his wand and then sliced up a few of the herbs to make tea. Spirits, what he wouldn’t give for a pot of tea! Then, sliding out a few of the snacks he’d hoarded from Maho, Jin turned towards his friend and handed them to him. “I made sure to steal extra honey cakes this time,” he offered, the hint of a real smile turning up his cheek at last. In domesticity, Jin found peace. They could forget about their situation for a few minutes while their hands were busy.
![[Image: HjIYkam.png]](https://i.imgur.com/HjIYkam.png)
* Jin takes potions and enchantments at times to give his voice a persuasive quality.
His performances, or even a simple conversation, can sometimes suggest thoughts
and ideas to his audiences.