Trashy Young master attacks

Thomas ran outside, his boots crunching against the frostbitten dirt as he pushed past the swinging tavern doors.

"Wait, young master!" He called, breath fogging in the chill air.

Apollo had already reached the edge of the street, a faint glimmer of starlight outlining his calm figure. He stopped but didn't turn.

Thomas caught up, panting lightly, though his eyes were sharp. "I've decided. Let me follow you. That land… it's not just rocks and brutes. There are paths only the locals know. And besides," he added with a wry grin, "you might find it useful to have someone who knows the place."

Apollo glanced sideways, his gaze unreadable.

"Oh, you want to follow me." He looked towards Thomas as his calm and blue eyes seemed to see through his secrets.