Chapter X

                                    

                                          
It's great that I went to bed early because I'm wide awake before the sun comes up the next morning. Again, it has to do with me being a morning bird so, thankfully, my body doesn't feel like it's dying a slow, arduous death.
                          
Even though it is the wee hours of the morning, I'm not as concerned about not waking Marlowe and Eathelin since they're young and they're probably going to stay knocked out cold.
                          
Though I'm rearing to go, Elle and Olivos aren't even up when I creep into the main room- understandable since I got up at an ungodly hour to get ready. So to pass the time, I nod off in a chair while I wait for them to wake up.
                          
"Joan?"
                          
I'm woken out of my light sleep by Oslen's hoarse voice. Wiping the drool from my cheek, I straighten up and yawn. "Yeah?"
                          
He steps into view, holding a candlestick which he sets aside.
                          
"What are you doing up so early?"
                          
"I needed to get ready to leave."
                          
"So soon?"
                          
"There's no time to waste."
                          
I search through the satchel, making sure I have everything needed for this little adventure to this Sephora woman's house or whatever.
                          
"Are you sure you don't need to eat before you depart?"
                          
"No, mom, I'll be fine. I'll pack something for the road if it makes you feel any better."
                          
He watches me as I keep to my word and fill my satchel with some portable snacks of fruit and figs.
                          
"What are you doing up so early?" I ask him, realizing he seems wide awake.
                          
"I heard you in here and was curious," He gives me a once over. "Are those the same garments you've been wearing the last few days?"
                          
"Uh, yeah, what's it to ya?"
                          
Squinting his eyes, he replies, "Is it customary where you're from to sport the same attire without making sure it's properly washed?"
                          
"Well, if you want me to change you didn't have to sound so bougie about it."
                          
"I wasn't trying to imply anything," He rushes. "I simply was observing-"
                          
"If it annoys you then do something about it. I just don't find dresses the most practical wear for situations like these."
                          
He blinks.
                          
"You prefer wearing men's pants?"
                          
"Well, actually, I found these in the women's section, but yeah, I'm cool with guy's pants."
                          
Shifting on his feet, he glances around.
                          
"I might have some pants which may suit you."
                          
Okay, now we're talking.
                          
"Really?" I'm intrigued. "That would be great."
                          
He's already heading down the hall to his room, waving me on as I follow behind.
                          
His room is nothing more than a glorified closet with a lone window. Harry Potter's room had more space than his sorry excuse of a bedroom where the bed just about takes up the whole room.
                          
"Forgive me for the tight quarters," He mutters as we squeeze our way around to the other lone piece of furniture in this closet, the clothes chest.
                          
"How do you manage in here?" I ask, hopping up on the bed to save walking space.
                          
"I find it quaint enough for me."
                          
I watch him rummage through the chest, pulling out a few articles of clothing before presenting me with some pants. Getting to work, I sort through the ones I assume will and won't fit me, tossing back the ones I know won't.