"Are you and Zolf—?" Cel asks him, both of them leaning on the porch outside the inn watching the ceaseless rain, Oscar with a cigarette, Cel with something that smells slightly more potent than a cigarette.
Oscar shakes his head, watching Zolf come out of the mist far off, hauling firewood, wearing the big stupid rainhat that makes Oscar's heart clench from how ugly it is.
"Are we what?" he asks, looking at Cel out the corner of his eye.
"Awkward exes? Secret couple? Friends with benefits? Pining hard for each other? There's this— this vibe between you two, and—"
Cel trails off. They and Oscar watch Zolf begin putting firewood into the shed. Oscar chews on it a bit.
"No," he says after a while. "Not like that, no."
Cel shrugs a bit, taking a long drag on their smoke. "Shame," they say, yawning through the vapour they exhale.