Chopping Wood for Food

Aulus fell into an easy rhythm of chopping wood, halving and then quartering the pile set against the side of the establishment. Between thunks, he listened to Jareth, lips pursing at his feelings towards his own unconventional love life trickled into his mood. He really didn't know what to do about it all, knowing if he confided the voices in his head and the weakness in his body whenever he was close to Octavia, people would think him a lunatic. Especially, she. Maybe even Jareth. But Jareth hardly knew him so maybe he could figure out what to do about it all from this story about love, wit, and unconventionality.

Haven't heard of it, Aulus said, trying to seem nonchalant and easy-going, leaning the axe on his shoulder for a moment. He didn't realize he was narrowing his eyes with speculation, nor looking Jareth up and down, as if to size up his slant. Fellow seemed like a willowy intellectual, they type who's head was always in the clouds, but maybe he had some insights that could be brought back down to the ground and put into practice.

Love, though? I don't know... he sneered, a touch of defensiveness sneaking into his wry grin. His eyes flashed back to the log pile nervously, and he went back to thunking the axe into wood.

I'm not about those mushy-gushy yarns, but I'll give it a chance, he shrugged, his ears perking up and his blows to the wood more measured and careful, so he could hear Jareth better over the work.