"How old are you? If you don't mind my asking."

Masque is quiet for a moment. "Seventeen? Around that at least."

Huh. He isn't much older than them, but he knows they both bear the scars of a hard life. Though, Masque's cut much deeper.

"At seventeen I was causing as much trouble for the monks as I could. Philosophy was pretty far from my mind."

"Cages leave a fair amount of time for thinking," they say with a shrug. "Can imagine the priests weren't all that forgiving."

"I take it you mean a literal cage, not a philosophical one."

He's suddenly regretting not killing Masque's captors slower.

"Sometimes." Pause. "Most of the time, really."

"I understand why you don't have much experience with poetry. I will make it my goal to at least show you adventure."

"Adventure has been fairly easy to find."

"Ah, but true adventure is thrilling, joyful, full of romance and excitement. Never just hardship."

That gets a quiet laugh. "Quite the optimist."

"Oh, I wasn't always. In fact, before I met you, I was quite the pessimist."

"I would've expected to have the opposite effect."

"I had lost too much, and was ready to have an unfulfilling and unadventurous pilgrimage. And then you tried to mug me. It was charming." 

Another laugh. "So glad to have been of service."

"Such a fine job too! Nearly had me, a shame I had an inch of practice over you."

"Better fed too," they note archly.

"A fair point. Perhaps, should we clash again once you're fed better, you will prevail."

"Perhaps."

"I'll have us down for a sparring match one day. Soon, I hope."

Masque makes a non-committal sound.

Zveran yawns then, and settles back against the wall. "I do hope that you'll find something worth staying around for, but you have my word that no one will make you. Once we reach the temple, you are a free agent. I swear."

That gets another hum, a little less non-committal, but still neutral, still not quite believing.

He doesn’t expect them to believe him. That kind of trust is earned. 

Zveran settles back against the wall again, closing his eyes. 

Masque settles down to rest as well.

Zveran falls asleep easily, clearly used to sleeping rough.