But why, in all the realms, would you busy yourself with something so very menial as walking when I am here with you? [ —undeniable, the edge of a tease which silvers his voice, the smile which plays upon his lips as he catches sight of her pout; the way she makes not to slip free of his grasp (though she could with ease, were she of the mind, for the way he cradles her to his chest is the farthest from a restrictive hold), but instead takes to mulling over Sion's reasons for why, impossibly endearing. ]

Consider it my show of thanks, for ensuring that we will rest safely tonight.

[ Safely, in the small clearing that they've happened upon, their tent pitched, the groundwork for a fire already made. And upon arriving at their encampment, Sion sees Lapis returned slowly to her feet, a hand lifting to gently clasp her shoulder, his fingers curling there in quiet gratitude. ]

The both of us, we've our parts to play, and mine... [ Withdrawing his touch, he surveys their supplies, taking note of what they might be able to share together for a meal. ] ...is to start a fire, and heat the last of the heavensegg soup to celebrate your masterful triumph.

[ And ah? What's this? Already, he's gone to rifle through his pack in search of the flint stone and knife with which to spark it. ]