Chapter 11: Chapter 11

(Wren, Liberna)

Wren couldn’t help it.

Only a few moments after sitting down in the restaurant’s booth he could no longer stand the itching worry and wet a few napkins with the glass of water in front of him, then started dabbing at the dried blood on Dexter’s face.

Dexter pulled away from him, leaning out of the booth, pushing his hand, covered by his overly long sleeves, into Wren’s chest, “Wren just leave it alone!”

Wren wrapped his arm around his tiny waist and hauled him upright, “Dude, you look fucking disgusting, I don’t want you terrifying the waitress.” Wren pinched Dexter’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing his face closer as he wiped away the blood, finding a few still bleeding cuts. “Besides you need to clean up these cuts before they get infected.” Wren glanced across the table at Nahilla who was sipping her drink, “Do you have a first aid kit?” he asked her.

She shook her head, an apologetic smile on her face, “Sorry, I don’t usually take my work with me.” With a shrug she turned back to conversing with Page.

“And it’s not like you should need to.” Wren glared at Dexter.

He wriggled and stuck his tongue out, “Not like it’s my fault.”

“You have to admit,” Jardin piped up from across the table where he was squished between Nahilla and her brother, “You generally make people want to fight you.”

Dexter turned his dark eyes on Jardin, leaning towards him, over the table, his red-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose as he tilted his chin. He smirked, “What? Do you feel the desire to fight me, too?”

Wren couldn’t resist rolling his eyes and Jardin did as well, albeit with a bit more sputtering in denial. “Of course I don’t wanna- don’t want to fight you. I’m pretty sure if-if I fought you I’d lose a-uh-a finger or um something.”

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Dexter laughed, “Alright, Wren, that’s enough. I’ll do it myself.” Dexter finally wriggled out of his grasp, taking the new napkins he had grabbed, holding them to his bleeding cuts.

Wren sat back against the booth, his eyes roving over his friends, catching the huge yawn splitting Nahilla’s brother’s, Mahiel’s, face, “You okay, kiddo?” he asked.

The dark bags under his eyes gave strength to the annoyed look on his face, “I’m only three years younger than you, can you stop calling me that?”

“Hmm,” Wren smiled, “no. Now has Kitten Academy really gotten so strenuous it’s giving you sleepless nights?”

“Yeah,” he answered, rubbing his eyes, “Guess I’m just stressed about the final exam.”

Jardin smiled weakly at Mahiel, “Don’t worry too much about it. If a loser like me can pass, you’re sure to ace it.”

Mahiel returned his smile, “Thanks.”

Dexter leaned into Wren, pressing his cheek into his shoulder, “Can we order now? I’m starving.”

“Fine, fine,” Wren reached over Page to pick up the ordering tablet, “What do you want?”

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