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"Why did the Commander send us out here, again?" Anders groused, lifting the hem of his robe out of a hole in the soft dirt that was filled with muddy water.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten already." Nathaniel frowned, though it wasn't much of a change from his normal expression. "The Commander said I had to help you, not hold your hand while you splash about in puddles."
"That's not what I meant," Anders replied. "I know why I'm here. I don't know why he sent you. And you try dragging along heavy robes while traipsing through the forest sometime. Next time I'll remember to shorten my skirt, maybe get myself something like yours. Very dapper."
Nathaniel rolled his eyes and surveyed their surroundings. Light filtered dimly through the thick blanket of treetops overhead, and a heavy, earthy scent reached his nose, carried on a light breeze. "Perhaps it's because I'm responsible."
"Oh, right. Our resident paragon of responsibility, who didn't nearly get himself executed. Oh, wait. That can't be you. I must be thinking of someone else." Anders went down on one knee, the damp springy soaking through his robes as he knelt, though he ignored it and went about digging up the roots of several healing plants and herbs that he'd come to the forest to find.
"Why didn't he send Velanna?" Nathaniel muttered softly under his breath, though not softly enough to keep it from Anders' ears.
"Ah, leading Velanna on a quiet stroll through the forest," Anders pointedly mused aloud. "It almost sounds romantic, until you consider all the daggers she'd be throwing at my back."
"Literally." Nathaniel chuckled, then quickly cleared his throat. "You know, Anders… I've noticed that a number of women seem to want you dead."
"It does seem that way, doesn't it? Oh, but the two of you, now that's a lovely couple." Anders quickly switched subjects, looking back at Nathaniel over his shoulder. "What with all the my-ladying you've been doing."
"It's called being respectful," Nathaniel's eyes narrowed, "a concept that eludes your comprehension, I'm sure."
"I'll have you know that I conduct myself with the utmost respect for all the social graces." Anders replied. "Now, if you're done standing there looking pretty, you can make yourself useful and give me a hand over here."
"I can't decide if I should take that as a compliment." Nathaniel moved closer, holding open the herb-gathering pouch that was lying at Anders' side.
"Deciding is half the fun, isn't it?" Anders grinned, dropping roots and leaves into the pouch.
"Anders, are you ever serious about anything?" Nathaniel asked, sighing.
"Not if I can help it." Anders' tone was light, but he fell unusually silent for a moment after that, brushing clumps of dirt off a large bit of elfroot.
"And how is that working out for you?"
"Better than the alternative, I suppose," Anders shrugged dismissively as he dumped more herbs into the pouch. He paused, dusted off his hands, and looked up. "I'm serious about the Wardens."
Nathaniel hadn't expected that response. "We do have that in common, I suppose."
"That, and running headfirst back into danger when we should have known better," Anders laughed softly. "And owing our lives to the Commander."
"Fair point," Nathaniel conceded, his rough expression softening just enough to reveal half a smile.