Chapter 172 They were undefined
_Author’s POV_
It was Ezekiel’s idea, which meant nobody should have been surprised by how that evening turned out.
He knocked on Pierre’s door at in the evening with his jacket already on and his hands in his pockets.
“Get your jacket,” he said the moment Pierre opened his door.
Pierre looked at him from the doorway. “Why?”
“Because we’re leaving tomorrow and you’ve spent this entire trip either worrying about Theodore or sitting in rooms with serious people making serious faces and you haven’t seen a single thing about this city that wasn’t related to a criminal operation.”
Ezekiel tilted his head. “Now get your jacket, Pierre.”
“I don’t think....”
“That’s the problem,” Ezekiel said. “You think too much. Jacket. Now.”
Pierre stood there for a moment with a confused expression trying to look for an excuse but Ezekiel was having none of it.
He eventually sighed and turned to get his jacket.
They started with food because Ezekiel refused to do anything on an empty stomach, which he considered a matter of principle. He found a street market three blocks from the hotel that was still running in the evening, all bright lights and noise.
He was royalty, but always craved to live like normal people.
He’d often sneak off with his guards to drink from cheap bars and eat from restaurants.
Pierre walked through it with calmness as he watched Ezekiel.
Ezekiel bought something from the first stall he reached without asking what it was first, which was also a matter of principle apparently.
“You don’t even know what that is,” Pierre pointed out.
“It smells good,” Ezekiel said, already eating it.
“That’s enough information.” He held it out toward Pierre. “Try it.”
“I’m not trying unidentified food from a street stall.”
“You’re an Alpha of a major pack and you’re scared of street food?”
“I’m not scared,” Pierre said with the dignity. “I’m cautious. There’s a difference.”
“There really isn’t,” Ezekiel said, and finished it himself.
They moved through the market slowly, Ezekiel stopped at every third stall approximately, picking things up, examining them and buying things he didn’t need with financial recklessness.
He bought a small carved wooden figure that he claimed looked like Kasper, then he bought two bottles of something from a stall that had no label on the bottles and a vendor who spoke no language either of them shared but who communicated the price through finger gestures and a confident nod.
Pierre looked at the bottles. “What is that?” he asked cautiously.
“Alcohol,” Ezekiel said with an irritated look at the way Pierre acted.
“You don’t know that.”
“The vendor nodded very confidently.”
“He nodded confidently when you held up two fingers. He might have been confirming the number of fingers.”
Ezekiel considered this. “It’s alcohol,” he said, and handed one bottle to Pierre.
Pierre took it, looked at it, and held it at a slight distance from his body like it might do something unexpected.
They ended up sitting on a low wall near a fountain in a square a few streets from the market, the city moving around them.
Ezekiel opened his bottle and smelled it first this time, which was progress. “It’s alcohol,” he confirmed, and took a drink. His face did something complicated for a second as he nodded and slurred. “Strong alcohol.”
“How strong,” Pierre asked.
“Try it and find out.”
“I’m an Alpha,” Pierre said. “I have a certain standard of....”
“I’m a prince,” Ezekiel said flatly. “I’m sitting on a wall drinking unlabeled alcohol from a street market and I look fantastic doing it. Open the bottle, Pierre.”
Pierre eventually opened the bottle.
He smelled it first, then he took a careful sip. He sat with it for a moment before his face changed a bit.
“Strong,” he said finally.
“Right?”
“Very strong.” He took another sip, which said everything.
Ezekiel grinned and looked out at the square. The fountain in the middle was lit up from underneath, the water catching the light.
Around it people were sitting and walking, a few were taking pictures, probably to post them on the internet.
“I like this city,” Ezekiel said cheerfully.
“You like every city,” Pierre sighed.
“I like this one specifically,” Ezekiel said. “This one had things happen in it.” He paused. “Important things.”
Pierre looked at him, Ezekiel was still looking at the fountain, his bottle resting on his knee, and his expression had gone to the quieter version of himself.
“Don’t,” Pierre said.
“I’m not doing anything,” Ezekiel said.
“You have your serious face on.”
“I have many faces,” Ezekiel laughed “You’ve catalogued all of them. That’s very telling, Pierre.”
Pierre looked away. He took another drink from the bottle, longer this time. The alcohol was doing its job, which was probably the most useful thing it had done since the vendor sold it to them.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while after that. The music from somewhere nearby got slightly louder and then faded again. A group of people passed the fountain laughing about something, their voices carrying and then disappearing into the general noise of the evening.
Ezekiel found a stall selling fried dough on the way back through the square, bought four pieces and ate three of them before offering Pierre the last one.
“Where did that even come from?” Pierre said, looking around for the stall.
“I have good instincts,” Ezekiel said.
“You have the instincts of someone who has never gone hungry,” Pierre said, but he took the fried dough.
They walked back toward the hotel slowly, taking the long way without discussing it.
“We should do this again,” Ezekiel suggested when the hotel came into view at the end of the road. “In a different city.”
“Do what?” Pierre asked. “Drink unlabeled alcohol from strangers and eat unidentified food from street stalls?”
“Yes,” Ezekiel said simply. “Exactly that.”
Pierre sighed but didn’t refuse. He found himself unable to.
“You’re impossible,” he finally said.
“You keep saying that,” Ezekiel said. “And yet here you are.”
Pierre had no good answer for that.
He didn’t try to find one.
But he knew for sure that he would definitely do this with Ezekiel in another city.
Why? He had no idea either.
And it definitely wasn’t about love or anything related.
They were undefined.