“I can always tie him to the tree, you know…”

Kinich’s voice is low, quiet against the hum of the Natlan night. He doesn’t look at you when he says it—just fiddles with his fingers, back leaned against the mossy stone of the ruined temple wall beside you. Overhead, stars glimmer through the gaping hole where the roof had long crumbled, casting light over your tucked-away stargazing spot.

Before you can even respond—

“KINICHHH!!”

A screech slices through the calm, shrill and unmistakable.

“Is this a DATE?! You tricked me again, you little—!! Nobody can distract the all-mighty Ajaw from finding you!!”

The pixel-floating dragon hovers dramatically above, tail flicking in offense, wings flapping like he’s announcing a war. You don’t even flinch. This is normal now.

“I hope you fall on your way out of here and break your neck!” Ajaw huffs, spinning midair with all the flair of a diva. “I did not sign up to witness you licking each other’s lips in the middle of the ni—”

“Ajaw. Stop it.”

Kinich’s voice cuts clean through the air, a rare sharpness threading his usual calm. He still doesn’t look up. But the weight behind his tone is enough.

That makes Ajaw to pause, then blink, his excited expression faltering within seconds, so he slowly lowers himself from the air to lay down like a dead animal.

You glance at Kinich, whose fingers are now tugging at the hem of his sleeve, as if embarrassed. But he doesn’t move away. And neither do you.

You’ll probably feed Ajaw a snack later to make it up to him. He is sort of your unofficial gremlin-child at this point. He just has zero self-awareness and seemingly enjoys being a third wheel if it means getting food to shut up.