I am going to regret this, aren't I? Gerome thought to himself, pushing aside the branches of the small, close-together trees that surrounded their improvised camp.

"If you take much longer, I won't be surprised when moss starts growing on you," the voice of one of his allies beckoned.

"I'm coming," the wyvern rider reiterated, beginning to get fed up with the other man's mocking tone… but he would have to hold it in. Surely Inigo could be annoying at times, but if Gerome's suspicions were correct, this little trip of theirs was no joke, and there would be no time for arguing.

It was getting late, but backing down was not an option, by this point, so Gerome took a deep breath and pressed on, until he saw that Inigo had stopped to wait for him at the other side of the woods.

"Took you long enough," the mercenary said, with an amused grin. "You need to walk more; I think you rely on Minerva taking you to places far too much."

"Don't bring her into this," the black-clad man snarled, before restraining his own tone back to absolute silence.

"Easy there! I was only japing!" Inigo laughed, placing his hands protectively over his face, as if expecting Gerome to slug him, or pretending to expect that, at any rate.

Gerome shook his head at the other man's foolishness, before taking a look around the place they'd gotten to – a small pond of clear water, surrounded by flowerbeds and sided by rocky walls, a lone large stone sat in front of the pond, gathering dust on itself and on the withered white-and-pink flowers that were left on top of it.

"Wait here, I'll be quick," Inigo said, momentarily placing his hand on Gerome's shoulder, before walking to a nearby flowerbed, picking up some of the white-and-pink ones, and placing a handful of them on top of the stone, replacing the withered ones.

With a gesture of his hand, the silver-haired man then gestured for the rider to approach him there.

"Gerome, meet my mother. Mother, this is Gerome," Inigo said, a casual tone to his voice, despite how odd the situation looked.

"Is this…?" Gerome began, but the other man had the courtesy of explaining right away.

"Her grave, yes… she always liked flowers, so that's where we decided to bury her."

Gerome nodded his head, remembering how they had camped near the place of Inigo's birth, this time around.

"Gerome is a stubborn one. Not the most verbal of our crew… unless you prickle him too much," Inigo said, amused at Gerome's furrowed brow from his comment, while stroking the smooth surface of his mother's grave.

A few moments of silence passed, with Gerome examining the gravestone, remembering what he knew of his companion's mother – He heard she was a dancer, and a little shy and awkward around people… how Inigo could be her son, the rider did not yet know.

"Do you know where your parents are buried?" Inigo then asked, breaking the silence, in a voice that Gerome never knew the man could use.

"No. They just… never returned," he said, crossing his arms and facing away from the tombstone.

"I see… well, I don't really know which is better," Inigo responded, his breath visible in the cold of that night. "If we can call it 'better' at all, I mean."

Gerome nodded in response, looking around, but avoiding Inigo's eyes. Why did he always avoid Inigo's eyes? Even If it was a reaction he feared, his mask would hide it from everyone else… so why could he still not bring himself to do it? He didn't know the answer, but it was one that rested frequently in Gerome's mind when he was around the other man.

"You know Olivia was a dancer, yes?" Inigo then asked, snapping Gerome out of his thoughts and back to reality – the reality of both of them alone save each other, in a secluded place.

"Yes, I had heard," Gerome responded, quickly facing the grave once more.

"I… learned a bit from her, actually," Inigo admitted, the very words seeming strange outside his mouth. "This is where I practice, when I can… It's almost like I'm connecting to her."

Gerome swallowed dry and his body practically froze in place… It was tough, after all, to pretend any of this was news to him, when watching Inigo dance, from the secrecy of the nearby bushes had almost become a habit of Gerome's.

He knew he should have said something the first time – the only accidental time, when he stumbled upon Inigo by accident, after picking provisions in those very woods, late at night… but he couldn't bring himself to; Not with how focused in the activity the other man looked. How peaceful he seemed, and how graciously he moved.

Following Inigo in silence, in the quiet of night to watch it again was definitely a worse mistake, however… which made it all the more surprising when Inigo approached him earlier, inviting him to their little trip there.

"…Would you like to watch?" Inigo asked, walking closer to the redhead.

"Sure, I don't see why not," was what Gerome could muster as an answer, despite how forced his voice sounded.

Inigo nodded to him, before taking his place by Olivia's grave, and beginning his activity.

Gerome observed him there, so focused and inside his element. The movements came smoothly and naturally to him, almost making it hard to believe that his mother had only taught him 'a bit.'

The wyvern rider tried very hard not to think about it, but there - under the moonlight, near the flowers and completely focused in something he clearly loved so much… Inigo looked beautiful.

"Can I… ask you why you brought me here?" Gerome inquired, when Inigo approached him again, swiping off the sweat from his brow. "I'm not complaining, it's just… why not Lucina, Owain or Brady, for instance?"

Inigo snorted with the question, before smirking at the other man. "Well… you are the only one I can trust to keep his mouth shut about it. You don't open it much in the first place!"

"Be quiet!" he retorted, gaining a hearty laugh from Inigo.

"Someday… someday I'll tell them. But for now… this is between you and me," Inigo said, resting one of his arms in Gerome's shoulder.

Gerome nodded his agreement, trying to look away, but being utterly unable to escape Inigo's eyes, for the very first time.