Chapter Text
Renarin fidgeted, resisting the urge to cover his ears. Even though the bridgemen of Bridge Four weren’t being any louder than usual, it was just too loud. The sounds were all tumbling over each other and making everything seem louder than it was. Instead, he pulled out the box that his mother had found for him shortly before she died. He fidgeted with it for a bit, but it didn’t help as much as it usually did. Renarin looked around and spotted Rock dishing out the stew and a pile of dishes behind him.
He carefully stood up, making sure he was as quiet as possible, and circled around the group. He managed to reach the dishes without too much trouble, and he began scraping them off and putting them in the bucket of water to be washed.
One of the dishes scraped after he’d put it down and he jumped, looking to the side to see Captain Kaladin washing the dishes he’d put in the bucket. Kaladin didn’t say anything, just nodded and continued washing. Renarin relaxed and finished scraping the last few dishes.
As he walked around Kaladin to dry the dishes, he felt more than saw or heard Rock walk up to them.
“Ha! Captain Kaladin and Renarin! Washing the dishes for me? You do not have to do this thing, but I am grateful none the less! I will leave you to this thing and eat my own bowl of stew! He has been made to perfection!” With that, Rock disappeared with a clap to each of their shoulders, making Renarin stagger under the unexpected weight.
Kaladin shot a glare at the redheaded man, but otherwise didn’t react. Renarin simply grabbed a cloth to wipe the dishes dry, stacking them neatly next to him. If the stacks were nearly perfectly straight and had the same number of dishes in each of them, Kaladin either didn’t notice or didn’t comment, which Renarin was grateful for. Sometimes he just had times when everything had to be as perfect as they could be, and those moments always seemed to come on his worse days. Adolin had suggested that it was his way of controlling his environment as much as he could. Renarin was inclined to think he was right.
The two men continued to wash the dishes in silence, even as the men of Bridge Four began trickling away, leaving their dishes. When they finally finished, the silence persisted, now only broken by the slight clinking of the bowls as they stacked them in the shed where they went with the big cauldron Rock used to make the stew. Renarin noticed that Kaladin either had clearly noticed his need for perfection or he had the same need, because he made sure that the bowls he placed were evenly spaced and as straight as he could make them.
Renarin took one last look at the stacks before he shut the door. He and Kaladin walked back to Dalinar’s building. Renarin had just opened the door to the building when Kaladin spoke, surprising him for a moment.
“Thanks,” he grunted, before turning and stalking off towards the barracks.
Renarin stood still for a moment longer before going to find his rooms.
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Kaladin grimaced as Lopen once again tried to convince them all to go out drinking. Why did they have to be so storming cheerful all the time? They had to keep Dalinar alive, and all they could think about was having fun when they weren’t on duty.
Part of Kaladin recognized that these thoughts weren’t what he actually thought, his men should have the opportunity to go out and have fun. That same part whispered that he should go with them, that he shouldn’t be alone when he was thinking like this, but the larger part was much louder, and Kaladin finally slipped away from the rowdy group to go find somewhere a little quieter.
He found Rock dishing out the stew and Renarin quietly scraping the dishes behind the large Horneater, so Kaladin went to help Renarin. He easily got into a rhythm after greeting the other man with a nod. The silence was easy, and Kaladin found himself actually enjoying himself, if not having fun. Or at least he was, until Rock with his too boisterous voice and attitude came and ruined the silence with a laugh and a clap on the shoulder that almost sent Renarin sprawling and would have done the same to Kaladin if he hadn’t been half expecting it and braced for it.
Finally, the group dispersed to wherever it was they went to and it was just Renarin and Kaladin. Kaladin had noticed that Renarin was being very particular about how he placed the bowls, with each stack being almost perfectly straight and having the same number of bowls in it. It reminded Kaladin of Tien arranging the rocks he had kept. Each rock had had a place that fit perfectly for it, even if only Tien knew where that spot was, and none of the rocks could be in a different place, or Tien would have to spend several minutes at least fixing it.
For once, this memory didn’t make Kaladin any more depressed than he already was. In fact, it almost made him smile. It was a good memory, and Kaladin was glad he had remembered it.
Finally, they finished the dishes, and Kaladin helped Renarin carry the bowls to the little shed they were kept in, being sure to keep them as even and straight as he could. When he had helped Tien with his rocks, it had always helped when Kaladin remembered where some of the rocks went, or barring that, if he just held them until Tien was ready to place them.
Renarin seemed to appreciate the sentiment, because he only cast a quick glance at the bowls before closing and locking the door. Kaladin walked Renarin back to his father’s quarters, because it was only the two of them and Kaladin was not leaving anyone unguarded right now.
When they reached the building, Kaladin paused for a moment before grunting, “Thanks.” He turned away, but walked slowly until he heard the door open and close. Then he turned around to make sure that Renarin had made it safely inside before heading back to his own barracks to get some rest. He had guard duty early in the morning.