Evening comes to Haven, and after last night's violent storm, the coming night is a peaceful counterpoint. The setting sun turns the light fluffy clouds to pink and gold, reflecting shimmering light upon the lapping waves of the lake, stirred by the faintest breeze. That same breeze carries to the treehouse the smell of a campfire and roasting meat, and the pungent, distinct scent of rich black tea.

Dinner in the treehouse, thus far, consists of a rather stale muffin. It's little wonder the smells by the lakeside entice Serendipity down into the open to check them out.

Martin sits on a crate-turned-chair, his back to Ren, facing the lake and the campfire he's made in a ring of stones. He's got a little lean-to set up, and though he has stuff stored beneath it, he himself seems to be enjoying the clear sky by being out under it. He's got a stripped stick in one hand, and he's turning it this way and that, presumably heating something over the fire. At his feet, on the ground, there is a metallic coffee pot, the kind with the glass lid-handle that shows when it's percolating. He's also got a chipped mug nearby, undoubtedly enjoying the bounty that is exotic tea.

Serendipity pads over on quiet feet, silent as he gets until he's standing just behind and to the side of the trader. He gives the leanto a significant look, and lightly scolds, "...now, what'd I say 'bout takin' proper care of your back, handsome?"

Martin startles, and he almost loses the stick to the fire, grasping it up just in time. A good thing, too. The wild fowl he has spitted on it probably wouldn't taste too good with bits of ash and mud on it. "You'll give me a heart attack," he complains, but he's grinning all the same. "My back is fine, Serendipity."

Serendipity grins back. "That'd be terrible," he replies solemnly, "...I might be forced t' give you mouth t' mouth. ...an' anyway, you say that now, but just wait 'til you get old an' you're stuck all hunched over like you're playin' leapfrog..." He takes a step of two closer, and peers at the fire. "Whatcha cooking?"

Martin clucks his tongue, though he sounds more amused than disapproving. "Pull up a crate," he offers. "I traded some of last winter's flour for this quail. There's plenty of meat on it, too." There's a gesture toward one of his packs as he adds, "Mugs in there, tea in the kettle."

Serendipity pulls one up, right beside Martin, as well as a mug, and he pours himself a good serving. "Who'd you trade for it? Smells nice. ...you want anything t' go with it? I could get somethin' to contribute..." He sips his tea, and studies the trader for a few moments. "Y'kinda remind me of a frienda mine I useta have," he muses. "...well, I figure we're still friends, I just haven't seen him for a year or so. 's the hair, somethin' about the smile and build."

Martin offers over the stick and says, "Here, you can do roasting duty to earn your keep. I'm actually trying to unload some stuff so I don't have to carry it back to Millinockett, so you won't be breaking my heart if I have to feed you." He tilts his head curiously. "Do I? I'll take that as a good thing, then."

Serendipity accepts the stick, and turns it as needed. "Yeah, you do. Not in personality, 'least I don't think so, but. An' yeah, it's a good thing." He grins a little, at the quail, apparently. "Headin' back soon, huh?"

Martin slides off his crate and goes into the lean-to, sorting through his packs til he comes up with a half-wheel of cheese and a reasonably fresh loaf of bread. "Aye, but I'll be back. I'm just filling orders and bringing freight. After meeting our shifting friends, I feel a little funny about hauling things with a horse and wagon, so I've been bringing it in small batches."

Serendipity tilts his head. "...how come? Not like you're gonna be forcing a Perunka into slavery. They wouldn't be pullin' a wagon 'less they wanted to, anymore'n I would."

Martin shrugs and says, "Yeah, but I don't know. I feel like they should be earning an honest day's wage and not just, you know, some hay and sugar cubes. I don't know. Truth be told, I think I like the excuse to travel. Takes longer by foot, see."

Serendipity laughs. "Long's they're horses, that IS an honest day's wage. But, y'know, I hear ya. Been travellin' all my life, myself. Since I was born. This's the longest I've stayed anywhere in a while." He turns the bird again, sighs a little as he glances over the lake. "Gettin' a little restless, now that the weather's gettin' nice again," he admits.

Martin nods agreeably. He takes a knife to the bread and cheese, portioning it out into neat slices. "I traveled a lot, have all my life. My family were traders, and then I went salvaging. Never had a home in one spot for too long. Or I guess you could say the whole world is home, and it's just really big."

Serendipity grins. "I go with the latter. That an', home bein' people, not places. Y'know?" He lifts the bird, looking at it appraisingly. "Lookin' nice."

Martin glances toward the roasting bird and nods approvingly. "Yeah, she's cooking up really nice." He makes a sandwich of bread and cheese and offers it over as he reclaims his crate-as-chair, taking up one for himself. "To the wide world being home," he toasts. With a sandwich. Nice guy, but suave he is not.

Serendipity accepts, and toasts with it with his free hand, tea mug and all. "To the world our home," he agrees, and takes a good bite. "...you miss goin' along with your family?"

Martin shakes his head and replies without a moment to even consider, "Nope." He's quiet while he takes a dauntingly large bite of his sandwich, chewing contently. He's got a lot of bulk to keep fed, after all. He washes the bite down with a swig of tea before adding, "Big family, limited resources. I don't mind spreading it all out a bit."

Serendipity laughs, watching. "...an' you got a healthy appetite. They grow 'em all like you, in your parts?" he teases, giving Martin an admiring up and down look. "Musta =really= limited the resources t' do that." He takes another bite of his food, and leans back to look at the sky.

Martin eyes Ren sidelong, both brows lifting. After another bite is washed down, he replies, "They used to. Now we just sort of grow this way on our own." He smiles mildly, then offers, "I have some whiskey for that tea, if you like."

Serendipity arches a brow. "...whiskey, huh? Yeah, you could talk me into that." He grins again, and holds the cup out, in offering. "Now, see, my people, where I come from, we grow more like me. Easier t' sustain, not so impressive."

Martin unearths the flask from his packs and pours a dollop into Ren's cup. "Aye, I can imagine. My brothers were a bit smaller. Mum says I looked more like my grandpa. I guess it skips a generation or something." He touches up his own tea with a little nip from the flask, then tucks it away again. "But I work it off. Good thing we don't ever get real fat, though."

Serendipity lifts his mug in a slight toast, and takes a drink. "Mm. Yeah, us neither. No such thing as a fat coyote, so they say." He looks in his cup, and takes another sip. "...mmm. Not bad. Thanks."

Martin points out, "That's because they gotta run so fast." He winks, just in case his joking tone wasn't sign enough he doesn't mean anything by it. "Hey, my flask is yours, my friend. I don't partake too often anymore. It's not a happy thing to drink alone."

"'s true," Ren agrees. "...both parts." He grins again, glancing sidelong at Martin. "The guy you remind me of, Uri, 's the last proper drinkin' buddy I had. I mean, they don't even have a tavern here, so." He spreads his hand in the best 'what're you gonna do?' gesture he can manage without spilling his drink.

Martin grins a bit, ducking his head. He sips at his tea, quiet for a moment, then says, "I used to drink too much." He eyes the quail, asking in the same conversational tone of voice, "Think she's about done?"

Serendipity tilts his head. "I-can't-believe-I-slept-with-THAT-guy too much, I-hope-I-didn't-sleep-with-that-sheep too much, or where-the-hell-did-Inwint-go too much?" he inquires, equally conversational, and examines the bird. "...looks good t' me."

Martin blinks a bit and eyes Ren with some alarm. "Sheep?" he asks faintly. Hook, line, and sinker. He even scoots away a little. "Let me just take that skewer, friend. I'll handle the food."

Serendipity clicks his tongue once. "Well, I hope y'=didn't=, then. I hear you can get some nasty diseases that way," he replies, handing the bird over and trying not to look =too= amused. It fails.

Martin looks quintessentially puzzled, and no words come by way of reply. He sets the sandwich aside, and his tea, and he takes the skewer carefully. "I'll just get dinner ready then," he says, with a little smile, and he does this thing, easing the quail off the skewer and onto a wooden trencher, with a stupified look if utter non-comprehension.

Serendipity watches this, and the look, in particular, just feeds his amusement. "...you're cute," he remarks, after several moments. "...but I s'pose I shouldn't try t' getcha drunk and take advantage of you, or anything. I mean, what with you bein' so nice about sharing your food and all." He can't help it. The reactions are so much fun.

Martin hmphs, but relaxes visibly as he says, "Sheep indeed." Rolling his eyes, he sets the trencher on his crate and sits beside it, tearing off a bit of meat to nibble at. "Besides, it takes an awful lot to get me drunk. I'm not a cheap date."

"Baaa," Ren replies, and grins cheekily. "'zat a challenge? 'cause I hate t' turn one down..." He reaches out to snag some of the bird for himself, risking burning his fingers.

Martin points out, "Farm noises? Mood killer." He munches, at ease again once the whole idea of sheep has been dismissed as teasing. "Besides, you shouldn't try to seduce monks. It's not nice."

Serendipity laughs. "I dunno, I've heard some pretty hot noises on farms. Granted mostly from the people." He grins over at the blond, and sips his drink again, considering him. "So what's a monk an' why isn't it nice?"

Martin looks briefly disturbed, but only briefly. He makes a sandwich with quail, cheese, and bread, taking a hearty bite and washing it down before he says, "Religious type person who's forsaken all the, whatever you call it, earthly things."

Serendipity considers this a moment, making a sandwich himself. "...so you're onea these religious type people," he doesn't-quite-ask, thoughtfully.

Martin nods sagely and replies, "Not a very knowledgeable one, but I figure that part comes with time. Study. You know, trying to walk the straight and narrow, and do good by your fellow man. That kind of thing."

Serendipity nods a little, still thoughtful. "An' you've given up... all the 'earthly things'. Which I'm figurin' does not mean dirt an' stones, but judging by seducing you not bein' nice, does include certain kindsa doin' good by your fellow man." He considers Martin a moment or two, studying him with obvious bewilderment. "...=why=?"

Martin says, around a bite of sandwich, "That's a complicated question." Content munching, then, "I guess I just needed some time to think, is all. Needed to find some quiet."

Serendipity nods a little. This, apparently, almost makes sense. Almost. "...you thought yet?" he inquires, arching a brow.

Martin nods a bit and says, "Oh sure. I think all the time." With a half-grin, he adds, "Not that you'd ever know it. But yeah, I think. I don't think I'll ever be done thinking, but I've got a pretty good start."

Serendipity nods again. "So you're basically planning," he says slowly, "t' give up 'earthly things' for, what, ever?" He quirks a brow, eyeing the blond.

Martin's brow furrows as he says, "I don't really know." He certainly hasn't given up eating, because he chows on down, though he does leave plenty for Ren -- at least half and maybe some over. "I guess I decided to stop for awhile and then never got around to starting."

Serendipity nods again, slowly. "But y'didn't give up food," he remarks, making himself another sandwich. "Or drink. ...anythin' count as an 'earthly thing' =besides= sex?"

Martin points out, "Strong drink in large quantities, medicines used for recreational purposes. Meaningless and careless affairs with people of questionable values. Really, I feel a lot better for having left it all behind. Never made me happy, much."

Another nod. "A'ight," Ren grants, considering this. "...an' where's the religious part come in?"

Martin considers this, sipping at his tea thoughtfully. "Sin," he replies decisively. "More tea?"

"Don't mind 'f I do," Ren replies, presumably regarding the tea, since he holds out his cup, and munches a bite of sandwich. "So, okay. What's sin?"

Martin tops off Ren's cup from the kettle, then tops off his own before nestling the battered metal thing near the fire's glowing coals. "It's, uh. Well, near as I can tell, it's stuff that hurts you. Causes you to despair, puts a distance between yourself and the god."

Serendipity nods again, and sips his tea. "So. Sex hurts you, causes you t' despair, an' puts a distance between yourself an' your god." He considers this over another mouthful of sandwich, washing it down with tea, and then looks at Martin again, vaguely incredulous. "...I think you've been doin' it wrong."

Martin laughs, shaking his head. "Funny, but that's not what I meant. It has more to do with the reasons one indulges in pleasures of the flesh without substance of the soul. It isn't the act, it's the reasoning behind it."

Serendipity continues to look rather dubious, but considers this while he polishes off his sandwich and replaces it with another. "...A'ight, then. What was your reasoning that was so bad?"

Martin polishes off his sandwich, and rather than loading up again, he pauses a bit first to sip his tea and watch the crackling campfire, and the subtle shift of light and shadow as evening fades slowly into night. "There was an emptiness inside of me," he says steadily, quietly. "A chasm in place of a spirit. I poured everything of this world into it that I could: alcohol, drugs, sex, parties, money, you name it. Those people I was with? I don't even remember most of their names. Some of them I only barely remember their faces. They didn't matter to me. They were just... there. I used them because they were there, to try to fill up an emptiness inside. And the funny thing is, the more I tried to fill that emptiness, the greater it became."

Serendipity tilts his head, regarding Martin thoughtfully. "What, they didn't even matter at th' time?" he inquires, between bites. "...well, a'ight, and what's good reasoning, these days?"

Martin shakes his head in reply, then smiles wryly as he replies, "I haven't done it in years, so I guess there hasn't been a good enough reason." With a vague gestures of his teacup, he explains, "I'm not saying what's right or wrong for anyone else. The whole point of stepping back and contemplating, that's to figure out what's right and wrong for me."

Serendipity grins again, and the glint of firelight off teeth makes it clear just how dark the night has gotten while they've chatted. "Not in years, huh? ...mmm, 's not real encouraging to those of use who might be int'rested in helpin' you find some reasons, is it. Challenging."

Martin utters a quiet laugh, absently reaching for a pit of quail to nibble on. "So what are your reasons for doing it?" he asks. "For the invitation to dinner, for the overtures you've made?"

Serendipity takes advantage of a recent bite of food to think about his answer. "...short version, 'cause you're cute," he replies, once that's done, "...I mean, aside from bein' built like a Norse god -- which, I gotta admit, works for me -- you're just, you're cute. The way you react t' things, the way you treat people, that I've seen." He shrugs a little. "Y'seem like a guy I wanna know. I make up my mind quick sometimes, but I'm right mosta the time. An' I like you. As for the rest, well, =my= god-type guy, he says t' celebrate life. 'mong other things. An' my people, well, we're friendly." Grin.

Martin grins at that, sheepishly turning his gaze from a brief glance to Ren back to the fire. "Those aren't terribly destructive reasons, granted." He sips his tea, then admits, "I like you, Serendipity. You've got an openness few people express. I enjoy sitting here with you, talking, sharing a good meal. There is something compelling about your lust for life." Sitting up a bit, he turns to regard Ren as he adds, "The god of men regards sex as a joining between man and woman, husband and wife."

Serendipity regards Martin in return, parsing that last statement for meaning, taking into account tone, body language, emphasis... it doesn't clear it up. "What, like if you sleep with a girl you gotta be partners for life?"

Martin doesn't betray a lot of implication with the words. He regards Ren placidly, but utterly unwavering. "So says Paul the saint. In his letters to the Corinthians. Also, according to the laws of the Jewish people who were the recipients of the first pact."

Serendipity looks doubtful again. "So your god guy is called Paul? Maybe the Corinthians were just having a little trouble getting the plumbing figured out, or something. He make any clues as to whether they maybe weren't the brightest bulbs on the tree?"

Martin laughs warmly and says, "They were pagans. Their conversion to the path of the Christ was a new thing for them, and they weren't sure how to be Christians. Paul, who was a covert from the Jews, wrote them letters to tell them. He wasn't god, but he claimed to have seen the resurrected Christ after his death. He then wrote letters to the new congregations of followers to instruct them in the ways of Christianity." He pauses, frowning faintly. "Though he does contradict the Christ in some matters in favor of impressing upon the new believers the tenets of Jewish law."

"What's a Christ, and if it's its path shouldn't whatever it said override his fan club president or whatever?" Ren asks, not sounding as if he means any insult by his terminology. "...oh, hey, is a Christ a kind of vampire?"

Martin nods thoughtfully, not seeming terribly offended by Ren's summary. On the contrary, he seems to be taking each word the kin utters with due and serious consideration. He only blanches a little at the last question, shivering as he says, "I... no. I don't think so. I really don't..." He drains his teacup, then pours more from the kettle for himself and Ren both, his hands a little unsteady, though he recovers fairly well. "The Christ was the flesh and blood son of God. He came to renew the Covenant -- the pact between man and God -- and to extend it to all of humanity, not just the Jews. The Jews thought of him as a traitor, which to be fair, according to their laws and traditions, he was. They had the Romans have him killed, only his disciples saw him after his death. His spirit. Before it went to rejoin that of God."

"Sounds complicated." Ren sips his refreshed tea, producing a flask from somewhere in his coat to doctor it, then offering the same to Martin. "But so, okay, what were the Corinthians doing before Paul wrote 'em and said sex made you married?" Pause. "...an' are you SURE he wasn't just playin' 'em a trick?"

Martin holds out his mug to receive the offer. "I don't think so," he replies with the seriousness of a young scholar. "From his writings, I couldn't truthfully say Paul even had a sense of humor. From what I can determine, the Corinthians were having sex willy nilly with whoever they wanted. Paul came along and told them they had to stop, because that was unChristian. He said you should get married before having sex, and you should only have it with your wife. Which is pretty much the way the Jewish people did it, according to their laws. And they were the people of the First Covenant, so one may assume they were righteous." He pauses, then adds, "Except that in the old testament, God's always getting mad at them and threatening to destroy them, and Moses has to talk him out of it."

Serendipity pours a slightly larger dollop than he may have meant to, being startled in the middle of it. "...what's wrong with havin' sex willy nilly with whoever you want? I mean, as long as they're up for it..." He rights the flask, slips a little more into his mug, then puts it away. "...and so who's Moses, then? The God's wife?"

Martin points out, "For those of us without magic to heal ourselves, rampant sex without cause or care can cause disease." His expression darkens a touch as he says, "From the stories my parents tell, during the Dark, thousands upon thousands of people were put to death because of a disease they carried that made vampires sick. It was like another disease that was spread primarily through sexual contact, and it killed as well. Taking morality out of the equation for a moment, it just isn't safe."

Serendipity glances down at his groin briefly, and then shrugs. "=I'm= fine. The really messed-up things are gone, and there's people in every town who c'n cure anything else if you need 'em. An' the vampire one, I know that got spread other ways, too. Like, biting. ...which isn't half bad either as long as it's a vampire you can trust and not some evil rip your head off feed your friends to his master type. Are there rules against doin' anything with water but drinkin' it boiled, too? 'cause you can still get sick bathin' in the wrong place if you're not careful. For example. =Life= just isn't safe." He stretches a little. "...so God and Moses have this kid, Christ, and he gets himself a fan club and all. Doesn't Dad get pissed, or is this a pantheon kinda thing?"

Martin mutters into his teacup, "There's no such thing as one you can trust." He winces a bit, looking a touch guilty, but it passes. "Moses was the first prophet of the god, not his wife. He lived thousands of years before Christ was born, and he led the Jewish people out of slavery and into the land of Canaan, which became Israel. He was a mortal man, and he died long before Christ was born. Some say Christ was a human avatar of God. God loved him, he wasn't jealous." He sips more tea, frowning at the campfire thoughtfully. "You have to understand," he says, "that these laws come from a time when people didn't understand things like germs. If someone got sick, they didn't know why. They outlawed what they knew to cause and spread disease, with the conviction that disease was God's punishment upon the wicked. They didn't know about boiling water to make it safe. But okay, so now we know about germs -- isn't that all the more reason not to put oneself at risk? I do boil water before I use it. That's just common sense."

"I =have= one I c'n trust," Ren replies to the mutter, quiet but firm. "He woulda died t'keep me from gettin' killed. Yelled at me somethin' fierce when I wouldn't let 'im." There's the ghost of a smile there, fond, directed into the mug, which he takes a sip of. "Anyway. You boil it when you bathe in it? When you swim? Everytime you cook, everytime you wash your hands or dishes? Anyway, if laws're from times before people knew why shit happened, shouldn't they oughta be different once they figured it out?" His brow furrows. "So, wait, Christ's God's son, but also God in a body? Who's his mom? Where'd the him that was in the body t' start with go? Why didn't God just come walk around himself?"

Martin points out, "Ah yes, I met your friend, the vampire." His expression is, for some strange reason, less than pleasant. "Christ's mother was Mary. She was a mortal woman, and some say a virgin, but the language is a little iffy. I don't know how it all worked out. I don't know anything about magic. Maybe God put himself in the woman's womb so he could be born and figure out what it was like to be human from the get-go."

Serendipity blinks, and arches a brow again. "...so he married his mother."

Martin pauses, chewing at his lower lip thoughtfully. "I don't think he ever married," he replies. "I also don't think there was any actual sex involved. It was a spell, or something. I don't know." He shrugs helplessly. "You'd have to ask a wizard. Besides, I don't particularly care how he got here. The important thing is that he came."

Serendipity pauses, mouth slightly open like he's about to say something. "...okay, I know a lotta guys think that's the important part, but-" he starts, and then pauses again. "Oh, okay, I see, I guess. Sorta. Seems like doin' things the hard way if you ask me."

Martin shrugs again and agrees, "It's not exactly the way I'd have done it, but I'm not a god. Who knows why they do what they do? As for Paul and his letters... I'm not sure if it's blasphemous to say it, but I think that where he contradicted Christ in favor of Jewish tradition, it's probably a good idea not to read too much into it. I mean... okay, the Christ said that not everyone was cut out for marriage, right? But Paul says everyone should get married, because sex is too tempting to pass up, and it's better to get married than piss off God."

Serendipity huhs. "...so basically that's just Paul goin' okay, you can eat when you're hungry, but only if you just eat peanut butter sandwiches, when the Christ guy was all, 'Some people are allergic to peanuts.' I mean, personally I'm pretty equal opportunity, but what if girls don't =do it= for you?" He shakes his head a little, and glances upward at the moon, then sidelong at Martin. "...what'd these guys hafta say about, say... kissing?"

Martin says morosely, "According to both Paul and Jewish law, if you're a man who sleeps with another man -- as you would a woman, whatever that means -- then you should be put to death." He's quiet a moment, then adds, "I prefer to take the Christ's advice on that one and say that the most important thing there is in the universe is love." Another pause, and he glances sidelong at Ren, tilting his head curiously. "Oh, it doesn't say much of anything about kissing."

Serendipity grins a little at the reply -- but it's a grin that somehow seems to involve more teeth than usual. "Well, I dunno about =them=, but the way =I= sleep with a woman involves parts men just haven't got," he remarks. The expression passes, though, and he glances upward toward the moon again. "....love, huh?" he asks, with just a hint of melancholy creeping into the edges, "...well, I guess at least =he= did have some decent stuff t' say, then." A sip of the tea, and another sideways look to the blond, with a half-smile. "So nothin' about kissing, y'say? Nothin' at all...?"

Martin's cheeks color a little, but he laughs rather than takes offense. Ducking his head, he says, "I seem to remember there being very little comparison. Maybe that's why it was outlawed. If you're not going to do it right..." He takes a swig of tea, adding, "He had a lot of decent stuff to say. Enough that it's worth learning, even if the stuff surrounding him is a maelstrom of confusion and misinformation." Glancing toward Ren, he says, quieter, "Nothing at all. But I'll tell you this, Serendipity Jones, the reason I haven't had sex, or even kissed, in these past few years has nothing to do with fearing retribution from my god."

"Mmm, yeah?" Ren asks, watching him, just barely more full-on than sideways, head still tilted, "...what's it got to do with?"

Martin leans back, tilting his head to turn his gaze to the night sky. For a moment, he just takes it in: the glittering stars overhead, the purple horizon where dusk yet lingers. Frogs and crickets chirp on the water, a breeze stirs the branches of the trees. "I didn't like why I was doing it," he admits quietly. "Using people who meant nothing to me, like tools of masturbation. An empty deed that offered a moment's gratification at the risk of disfigurement or death, and that's just what it could do to the body. I didn't like how I felt the next day. Angry. Cheated. And very much alone. True, it was the path of the Christ that made me stop doing those things, but the decision was my own. Time and distance, it gives a man perspective. At first, I hated pleasures of the flesh because of how they had so terribly deceived me." He shrugs. "Then I realized it was me deceiving myself. I no longer hate sex. On the contrary, I revere it. That's why I don't do it." His attention turns back to Ren. "The fact is that unless I could, through the conduit of flesh, connect with you so deeply that you'll feel as though you've touched the face of God? Then I'm not doing it right." He smiles a little.

Serendipity smiles a little back -- as opposed to grinning; sincere as both may be, there's a visible difference. "...I revere it too; that's why I =do= do it," he replies, just a little too amused to count as wry. "Similar thing, though, I kinda think. 'f it's bein' done Right. Though I think there's different kindsa right in different situations..."

Martin nods slowly, seeming to accept the words at the value their given. He doesn't argue the point. "Not everyone is so sure of themselves," he admits, dropping his gaze to his teacup. "I want to know, to be sure, that when I do it, it's for the right reasons."

Serendipity reaches out, and his fingertips flit through a few locks of Martin's hair, very lightly. "Well. I've been me for a long time," he replies, very gently teasing, "...all my life, far's I know. ...mosta the time, I know who an' what I am. Like it better'n when I don't..." He trails off, and considers Martin for a couple moments. "'f I kissed you, would you kiss me back?"

Martin tilts his head toward Ren, casting his glance aside to the ground, not terribly proud as he replies, "I know exactly what I am." He leaves it at that, and his attention flits to Ren's face. With a slight shake of his head, he says softly, "No. Because I'd kiss you first." Which is just what he does, too. Leaning forward, his lips brush against the kin's, light as the breeze at first, and then gradually more intent.

Serendipity's hand slides deeper into Martin's hair as they lean in, cradling the back of his head and pulling him just a bit closer into the kiss as it intensifies. He seems perfectly happy to let it start light and tender, and follows the blond's lead on the level, for the most part. All right, there's definitely encouragement involved, and as much temptation as he can manage, but within the parameters that seem to be being set.

Taking a few years off to think might not have been a bad idea on Martin's part. He seems to have thought about kissing rather intently. There's none of his usual amiable bumbling. His calloused fingertips brush along Ren's cheek tenderly, cupping the line of his jaw. The would-be monk nips at his lower lip, smoothing the sharpness over with the softness of his tongue. From there, deeper kissing, tasting, touching. It's the kind of appetizer that makes one hungry for the meal, but then he draws away, lidded eyes seeking out Ren's gaze as he whispers, "I have to meditate upon this. But I can put off my return to Millenockett one more night. I do believe I still owe you a proper dinner."

Serendipity appreciates and returns the attentions avidly, catching the trader's lips with another quick, soft little follow-up kiss as they pull away. His half-closed eyes open lazily, warm with desire and interest as they meet Martin's. He smiles a slow, closed-lipped smile, and nods once. "Mmm," he murmurs, "...t'morrow night? Just tell me when, where, an' what to bring, lovely."

Martin smiles softly, smoothing his fingers over Ren's hair lightly as he replies, "At dusk, up on the ridge. Bring yourself, your appetite, and let me take care of the rest." The kiss he gives Ren on the cheek before drawing away entirely is so discordantly chaste compared to the one previous. "I'll be there, Lord willing."

It could well be the chasteness of it that makes Ren duck his head slightly, not-exactly-hiding a smile. "...me an' my appetite, I never leave at home," he replies, lifting his head again, the smile shading into a grin. "Dusk on th' ridge, then." He picks up his mug from where it seems to have spilt on the ground, and sets it, righted, on the crate by the meat, looking at Martin again.

Martin offers Ren a smile so guileless and yet with so many layers of complexity. The unobservant might mistake him for a simpleton. "At dusk, on the ridge," he confirms as he picks at a bit of meat left on the quail and pops it into his mouth, gazing up at Ren placidly. "Sweet dreams, til then."

Serendipity grins, standing and drawing his fingers along a lock of Martin's hair as he leans down and returns the chaste kiss, a very gentle press of lips to his cheekbone, just past the outer corner of his eye. "T'you, too," he replies, and straightens up, starting away from the campsite, looking back just once, a few feet away, to add, "...g'night, handsome," and then continuing on his way.