The field felt quieter once the other two were gone—less movement, less noise. Just the soft breeze rustling the nearby brush and the steady rhythm of Billy's breath.
Artur straightened from the ground, stretching his back with a wince. "Finally," he muttered, eyeing the last of the rows.
Billy stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, gaze following the curve of the hill where Mark and Jay had disappeared. "They work fast," he said.
Artur grunted. "They talk too much."
Billy chuckled softly. "They'll kill each other or fall in love."
Artur gave him a side glance. "Both are possible."
A silence lingered between them—comfortable, weightless.
Then Billy turned to face him fully. "You're not going to ask why I keep looking at them?"
Artur bent to pick up the last bundle of rope. "You'd tell me if you wanted me to know."
Billy watched him for a second. "What if I just wanted you to stay quiet with me?"
Artur looked up, meeting his eyes. "Then I'd be quiet."
