Yasha traced her fingers over the faded golden lettering.
“It’s a book,” said Molly, charming grin masking his nervousness and trepidation. “It’s, er, it’s about etiquette.”
“Etiquette?” Yasha echoed. “What…is that something important in this country?”
Molly considered this for a moment. “Actually, probably not,” he conceded. “I wouldn’t exactly be the best reference point for what’s usually done around here—“
“—fair point.”
“—but I think it could be a useful skill if you’ve ever got to deal with non-circus folk. It’s about how to behave in towns and things, what manners are expected and what to do in social interactions. That kind of stuff. It’s probably useful for when you want to talk to people.”
Yasha frowned. “But you will be there to speak, will you not? Why would I need to know this?”
Molly struggled for the proper response. He settled on a question. “You never really…communicated with people back home before? Like, never talked about the weather or chatted about neighbors or anything?”
She shrugged. “The weather was always bad,” she said. “Neighbors were only slightly better.”
He chuckled at that. “Alright, alright, point taken,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll think about it? You never know, etiquette could come in handy one day. Well, it certainly hasn’t for me yet, but that might just be because of…well…just sort of how I look, in general.”
“I think you look fine?” Yasha said, confused. “There is nothing wrong with you.”
Molly grinned. “And that, dear, is why I like you. And here, look, books can be used for other things too, not just reading. You can put stuff between the pages to hold onto.”
“Stuff?” Yasha asked. “What is your meaning?”
Molly glanced around where they sat in the grass, under the shade of the main tent, out of the afternoon sun. His fingers carded across the greenery, trailed through the blanket of clover springing up from the ground below them. His eyes lit up when his hand brushed against something tiny and spectacular, and his deft fingers easily broke the stem.
“Like this,” he said, grinning hugely and holding up a little clover in front of his eyes. “Look, there’s four leaves! That’s a sign of good luck.”
“Why?”
Molly pointed at the clovers growing around them. “Most of these little plants have only three leaves,” he explained. “But sometimes you’ll find one with four. The odds aren’t great, but you never know. It’s a sign of luck when you do manage to spot one.”
“You must be a very lucky fellow, then,” said Yasha. “You found that so quickly.”
He laughed. “That’s a nice thought, isn’t it? At least I’ve got one thing on my side.”
And then he offered the clover to Yasha and grinned. “Here,” he said. “Put that in your book. You can keep it for both of us, and maybe we’ll both have a bit more luck in the future.”
She accepted it carefully, holding the tiny green speck with an almost reverential care between her fingers. She opened the book with her other hand, and delicately placed the clover against the pages before closing them shut.
She looked up. “Thank you, Mollymauk,” she said.
He waved a hand. “Think nothing of it, dear.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, watching the clouds roll by against a blue sky.
Then Yasha spoke. “You are wrong,” she said.
He glanced over, confused. “Excuse me?”
Her fingers idly traced the cover of her book. “You are wrong,” she repeated. “I am on your side as well. That is two things.”
He blinked in surprise, and then a small smile crept across his face. “Thank you,” he said.
