"Can we not talk about that right now?" Waver managed, bright red and contemplating his own desire to slip off of Bucephaleus and into a giant crack in the ground to swallow him whole. He hated relying on a cliche, but it was a true one. "S'complicated for me."

Thankfully, Rider came with his own distractions. Mostly in the form of pointless arguments that felt comfortable and familiar. An old armchair with one's form molded into it.

"And look, that sleeping bag was designed for outdoors! Didn't your army get cold at night when you were dragging their asses around!? Deserts are awful at night!"