Chapter Text
Nero is awakened by a rooster’s crow, long and wistful as the rising sun breaks through the horizon. He opens one eye and checks his surroundings. Avilio is lying next to him with his front to Nero, golden eyes unblinking and hand settled on the knife by his waist. The first rays of light cast an eerie shadow against the man’s face and Nero suspects that the other had barely slept, if at all.
“Stay up all night? Nobody’s chasing after us now, you can stop being so paranoid about someone stabbing you in the back.” He huffs and sits up in the carriage. It had been a few days since their encounter with “Big Mexico” as Nero so endearingly called him, and since then, he hadn’t received any calls from Valbero about hitmen. That night wasn’t as harrowing as some of his other experiences, but it was still a frightful reminder that Nero was very much human and could die at any second. As he watches Avilio dismount the cart, he grudgingly admits that he was indebted to the other for saving his life, but he wasn’t going to bring that up any time soon. Cocky bastard would probably just smirk and rub it in his face later on.
Nero’s thoughts are interrupted by the grunt of the cart horse, impatiently scuffing his hooves in search of morning breakfast. He’s about to call to Avilio to fetch the horse some hay, but the younger had disappeared into the forest's edge, probably to look for some berries or something for their own breakfast. Two men could only live so long on cans of fruit and scathing banter.
“I hope he gets mauled by a bear.” Nero mutters under his breath, throwing a small stack of hay under the horse’s feet. “Maybe bears like the taste of pineapple too.”
The morning dew is still heavy and Nero decides to refresh their water supply by heading over to the small lake just adjacent to them. He dips the metal bucket into the clear pool, taking a moment to lie down and relax before they would inevitably hit the dusty road again. He misses his younger brother, he misses Vanno, and he misses Valbero. Heck, he even misses the old geezer, but what was he doing instead of drinking back home with his friends and family? Oh, that’s right, he’s stuck on the run from the Galassias with someone he barely knew, someone who rebuffed his every attempt at conversation and looked like they were constantly seconds away from committing manslaughter. No, he’s stuck with a sullen man who probably has never known the definition of amiability.
As Nero makes his way back to the cart, Avilio appears from the line of bushes, hands full of colorful berries and what appears to be tree roots.
"How do I know that you’re not trying to poison me?” Nero can see Avilio's eye twitch in irritation from a mile away.
“You don’t.” His companion says dryly, climbing up the cart to sit cross-legged and setting the food onto the wooden floor. Nero reaches out for a berry, but is smacked away by Avilio, who almost looks offended that Nero had tried to reach for his food. “They’re not for you. Go find some yourself.”
“I can’t tell the difference between a blackberry and a blueberry, how am I supposed to tell what’s edible or not.” He whines, reaching in the satchel for a can of pineapple but finding the bag to be ruefully empty. Turning to Avilio, he shows him the empty bag, but Avilio simply shrugs and points to the forest. Nero scowls.
“Blueberries are blue. Blackberries are black. Figure out the rest for yourself.”
In all honesty, if Avilio wasn’t so useful as a driver, Nero would have punched him right then and there.