This was tough. Already, it had become unbearably difficult. There were a lot of questions, there was a lot of preparation. He understood, definitely, and he was going to try his damned hardest to get things to work out. But he did feel like he was going to drag Aoren down here, and perhaps even his hardest wouldn't stop that. On the other hand, perhaps he was a benefit, if you excluded the financial aspect of the trip. He knew hypnosis, fire, air and lightning, he had two strong hounds and also some experience with the lowlife of the world. He knew how to deal with people when he needed to. Though he couldn't guarantee any capability against things that could not be reasoned with. Of course, Aoren was a strong man with magic to his disposal. Perhaps they could compliment each other, if they played their cards right and Caesarion didn't do anything stupid. He'd have to not wander off, not question, and not succumb to weakness. It was a test.
"I don't want help," He said. He didn't seem annoyed and he didn't feel belittled, like last time. The man knew that Aoren was compassionate to his struggles, it was only that he did not want Aoren to suffer for him. But this time, it was a different story. And Aoren didn't ask him if he wanted help, but if he needed it. "To be honest, a part of me would rather not go at all than be a weakness. I don't want to take your money, or make things difficult. But I admit that I don't have enough for all of these expenses. It's been hard for me just to get by in Syliras, and until Fall I'd been living essentially on leftovers and scraps. Now, things are a little better, but I haven't exactly been able to save my money. I have a bit, but not much." He would try and buy whatever he could, until the well dried up completely. Once that happened, he had no choice but to become a charity case. This time, at least, he could accept gifts for what they were: a sign of kindness and affection, rather than flip out on Aoren for damaging his pride.
Pride was for the rich fool that he was, and humility was for the strong man that he wanted to be. Humility was what he'd acquired in this city, and he planned to keep it on his person at all times. "I'll take what you think I need, but when I have the money I'll be handing it right back. That alright with you?" His lips curved into a slight smile, and his hands locked together from behind his back. He listened attentively to everything Aoren had to say, and tried to take the positive out of all the negativeness that they'd face. For example, things would be hard, but that'd provide him an opportunity to grow. And, there was the obvious perk of being able to stick with the Skycrown, though he wasn't sure if the guy really wanted him there. He felt that there was at least a slight desire for his company, but mostly it was probably just charity. Oh well.
Another question came, and with that, another difficult answer. "Being an exceptionally skilled hunter would require exceptional skill in battle. There are more creatures in the wild than just stags, and most of them want to kill you. If I have to confront any of them, I'd certainly not be worthless, but I can tell you to not expect leaps and bounds." Leaps and bounds was definitely a flattering way to put it. In other words, he had little expectations of his combat ability. Magic required time and it was stressful to the body. He couldn't exactly just start flinging fireballs and shooting lightning from the sky whenever confrontation arose. Honestly, this all begged the question: just how dangerous was it, outside of Syliras? Until he'd really experienced battle, he couldn't properly gauge himself, or how useful he was. He'd never been in a real fight, he'd only practiced for the day it eventually came.
It would come on the fifteenth, for all intents and purposes. He had to be ready by then; ready to fight, to hunt, to do whatever was necessary. That was, what, twelve days from now? Heh. Maybe he would pray to Priskill for an extension on that deadline. "That sounds fine by me," He said. That was sort of a lie, but he didn't exactly have a second option, so the fifteenth was what it was going to be.
For a short time, he felt like he noticed some weird tension with Aoren. He could see a disturbance in his expression, like there was a real upheaval in his thoughts. He must've been struggling with whether this was the right decision, and whether Caesarion was worth the trouble; further on, whether he'd start to reveal the same bratty qualities that he had before. That was all his own speculation, but it was impossible to not expect. He knew that he'd stained his reputation impossibly so with his first impression, and so coming back from that to actually be trusted would either take years or it would be impossible. Especially when he didn't have any use other than perhaps some form of companionship. Aoren didn't have to trust Caesarion, he was of no benefit to him. This was all Caesarion depending, and Aoren providing. They both knew it, and how that effected their dynamic would come to reveal itself.
"I don't know any of that... my specialty is... you know." Magic. "Archery's never been my thing. I can try and learn right now, but I doubt I'll presume the role of an expert between now and the fifteenth."
