The first thing Ajeel felt that particular morning was hot, hungover and extremely...itchy. So much that his eyes flew open only to be hit in the face with light and heat. It took a moment for the random colors to settle before the sand mage could see clearly. Ajeel blinked a few times, processing the field of yellow sand that spread out before him.
"You're awake?" Neinhart said sweetly beside him.
Ajeel attempted to turn his head only to feel the sharp pinch of needles. The sand mage cursed under his breath.
"What the hell is going on?" He demanded, wincing at the scratching deep in his throat.
"Look around dimwit." Neinhart's voice now sounded sharp and hoarse, "Even you should be able to process our predicament!" he broke out into coughing.
Ajeel considered shooting back an insult until he spotted a particularly red shoe about the size of his calf beside his leg. Suddenly, the heavy stench of blood and decay flooded Ajeel's nostrils. His stomach churned.
"Who is this dude." He choked out.
Neinhart sighed, "Ajeel...that's a clown...a dead clown."
"...why is-"
Neinhart interrupted him, voicing hysterics, " Ajeel. We are in the middle of a desert, tied to a cactus, with anti-magic cuffs, and all you are worried about a dead clown?"
Ajeel opened his mouth to respond only for the flower-loving Spriggan to continue with his rant.
"Have you wondered for a moment the reason we are here? Tied to a cactus? With no water? No food? And no means of escape? Have you? This is hardly romantic of you Ajeel, hardly!"
Ajeel tugged at the ropes with no result. Frowning, he carefully laid back onto the spines.
"Wait a minute," he said, "since when was I romantic?"
He didn't receive a reply, but even under the heat of the sun Ajeel could still spot the pink blushing of Neinhart's ears.
"Well..."
"Go to hell."