Inside Julian's hut, Leonel was busy picking up the scattered bits of junk and trying to clean the debris and mess left behind. His expression was a still one, as it tended to be. Though in reality, he was feeling oddly dejected.
It wasn't his first time operating Blueiron, so he had no idea what even went wrong. He decided to blame the hunk of junk for being old. It couldn't be that he had done something wrong. And all because he was curious, and believed that the thing might actually help him in his endeavor to cook breakfast.
Alas, he should have just stuck with real fire. So much less dangerous.
He sulked in silence and continued to clean, glaring at the piles of junk and lines used for laundry that cut across the tiny space. How could a person, much less a blind one live in such a hovel? His fingers itched not only to clean up after the mess made earlier, but also to sort out the items that filled Julian's room. He couldn't imagine even half of these things having any sort of legitimate use.
A stuffed bear? Seriously?
No, Leonel couldn't take it anymore and began the arduous task of sorting through the trash that prevailed in the tiny space. Slowly he was dismantling the entire set up, unhooking the hammock from the bear, taking the big trunks out from under the desk and-- What was this?
Old knitted sweaters and children's clothes!? He found clumsy wood carvings and more useless books and even rusted jewelry and empty tins. What was all this? They clearly needed to be tossed at some random peddler or into fire to never be seen again.
And soon, the entire hut became an even bigger mess as Leonel slaved to undergo the daunting task of sorting out all of Julian's junk. He was suddenly struck with the realization that there was still more crap lying about outside.
He shuddered at the thought, and decided to focus on the ink bottles in front of him and sorting out the empty ones from the half empty and completely empty ones. The other things could wait.
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When Julian was finally done cleaning and dressing the wounds on his arms he was about ready to climb back into bed because clearly, it wasn't yet noon which meant that he could sleep. Dog had flown down from its perch and decided to slither around Julian's legs to harass him for attention.
"Get off me," he gave the creature a light kick, "You're not a cat." But Dog was not offended and cawed at Julian's words before flying up to slither around his neck and shoulder, setting down like a scaly scarf.
Julian decided that he wasn't in the mood to entertain the beast with more complaining and folded up the cot to take back inside with him.
He should have known better than to leave Leonel by himself.
"W-What are you doing!?" He shrilled, so horrified and shocked that he outright dropped the cot on the ground. The thing thudded over as it fell.
"What does it look like?" Leonel deadpanned.
Half the room was organized in sleek columns and rows, all the items perfectly stacked, fitting together without a single inch wasted. On the other side of the room items sat in a large disorganized pile, as if waiting to be thrown. And Leonel was seated in the middle with stacks of books he had taken out. Some were being put into the bookshelf, while others tossed into the big pile of things.
"Y-You're making a mess of my home!" He veered around, looking at the giant pile without even knowing where to begin, "How am I supposed to put everything back? My home was perfect before!"
"More like a pig's den," Leonel sighed. "Look, I'm doing you a favor. Sorting out your junk."
"You damned monster!" Julian came at the Inquisitor with arms flailing, he reached over and yanked away something titled 'Virtue and Passion: A Good Balance for a Married Life' out of the Inquisitor's hand. He was only even more horrified when Leonel glared at him and picked up another one that had a spine reading, 'Beginner Spells for Beginner Mages'.
Leonel's expression was completely blank when he looked at the book in his hand then placed it on the shelf before snatching the one that Julian still held in hand. That one, he heartlessly threw into the pile of junk.
"Leonel, you heartless demon," Julian trembled with rage, hands curled into fists at his side.
"Tell me you're going to read 'Virtue and Passion: A Good Balance for a Married Life' with a straight face and I'll reconsider my decision."
"I-"
Julian was a shameless liar but even he could not say that without snickering or choking on his own spit.
With a huff of satisfaction, Leonel went back to sorting. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"Do you really expect me to do the devil's work along your side? Toss out my precious belongings like they are no better than a crow's rotting corpse? Tell me, young man, do I look like an idiot to you?"
A deep sigh. Leonel paused before looking up with a glare, "I'm trying to help you. Idiot."
���How is this helping me!?"
"It's going to improve your quality of living."
Somewhere in the depth of Julian's heart he understood that it was high time to say the things that had no use or place in the tiny little shack he now called his home. But it didn't mean he was going to admit to his wrongs so easily and readily.
At least not verbally. "What, do you think giving me heartache and depression will improve my quality of life? As a doctor I can be sure to tell you that is not how things work." But despite the continued complaining he had knelt down and began to help Leonel with organizing. Each time he came upon a useless item, a deep frown tugged at his visage, wondering if the (nonexistent) sentimental value was enough to convince Leonel to allow him to keep it.
It never was.
Still, they bickered for an entire morning, and an entire afternoon as well.
Before they even knew it, an entire day had come and gone. The pile outside of Julian's hut had doubled if not tripled in size. The interior was neater than it was when Julian first arrived. Amazing.
Nightfall was coming with dusk painting the sky hues of orange. A savory scent made Julian drool but he was too fatigued to pull himself up from the ground. Grass tickled his cheeks as the wind swayed. He would fall asleep if he wasn't also salivating from the sweet smell roasted pork and vegetable stew. His stomach rumbled loudly, urging him to get up but Julian's limbs were as loose as overcooked noodles.
"Get up, old man."
He sighed, eyes fluttering open. But his glasses were long askew, face pressed against the grass and he was too lazy to look up. "You really need to get out of this habit of ordering me around. Have you forgotten that I'm your elder?"
"I haven't forgotten. That's why I call you old man."
"Wow." Now Julian didn't want to get up even more. "You truly are a shameless brat." When he got up a warm bowl of stew shoved in his face. He licked his lips and happily accepted the bowl of stew.
"Never said I wasn't."
Warmth filled his mouth and belly. The hearth that flickered outside of Julian's house was welcoming, the heat kissing their faces.
It was calm and the crickets came out to sing. A distant buzz saturated the air, insects joining them at the flame.
"When are you going to leave?" Julian meant it to be sharp, a sneer but his voice was soft and he blamed it on fatigue. A yawn stretched his visage as if to convince himself of the fact.