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“By the gods – let me help you!”
The Exarchs eyes widen as you kick the door of the Oculus open and he quickly places the book he held on the table next to him.
In your arms, you carry a bunch of stacked crates. The “tower” is wobbling left and right and just as you place them back on the ground, the top one comes loose. But you have caught much faster things before, which is why it quickly finds its place again on top of the stack.
G’Raha meanwhile closes the distance between the two of you and grabs your arms.
“You don’t have to carry everything by yourself,” he insists while inspecting you rough hands for splinters, “let me help you with this.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you quip and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I can take care of this in no time.”
“Those crates are heavy already. And I have two good hands, too.”
“It’s fine,” you answer, grabbing a bottle with water for a quick sip, “I can bench press trice your weight. This is literally nothing.”
“Where are you taking them anyways,” he asks, peering inside the top one.
“Just over to the market. But I was asked to bring this to you first.” You place the bottle on his table together with a letter.
“Oh, who is it from,” G’Raha asks, “would you mind opening it for me?”
You pick it back up. It’s a simple white letter with a simple red wax seal.
“Sure! But it’s personal so-“
But you don’t get any further, before you hear a rattling sound and the creaking of the door.
You turn, only to find the crates and the Exarch gone.
“G’Raha!” A quick sprint to the door and peering out you see him balancing the cargo across the towers threshold.
“If you won’t let me help you, I will have to take matters into my own hands,” he huffs, looking up at the top crate, which starts wobbling again.
“Oh dear…” you pinch the bridge of your nose and exchange a quick glance with the guard.
“I-can-do-this,” you hear the Exarch press out between his lips.
“Alright,” you sigh and take a few steps ahead. Before he can reach the steps, you walk up to him from behind and quickly swoop him up in your arms bridal style, the crates rumbling dangerously.
His ears flutter back and he gives you a surprised and kind of intimidated look.
“But… But-“
“If you insist on carying those for me, I must insist on carrying you, if you don’t mind.”
But you don’t wait for his answer. Instead, you shake him a bit, to get a better hold of him and make your way down the stairs.
When you cross paths with Lyna and a bunch guards, they look at you, questions in their eyes.
You shrug.
“He insisted.” And walk by towards the markets.