The Imperial Guard, ch 19

The Imperial Guard, ch 19

Chapter Nineteen

Catalin learned several things: that there was such a thing as a quiet, slow week - there could even be three, right in a row - and that they weren’t necessarily relaxing.

It was perfect for the first few days. He slept in, he read Gwen’s book, and he did all the things he never had the time or energy for. But after a while, it only made him tense, and he learned that the adage about ‘old habits’ wasn’t such an empty cliché. He started cooking all the meals, he methodically scrubbed and cleaned every inch of the basement, and he ignored anyone who hovered silently and looked concerned. The polish fumes were oddly comforting.

But in the weeks following Talia’s announcement, he also learned that his teammates had lost the easy banter they had finally managed. Damian was still angry, Saphie wasn‘t there more often than not, Kite was offended on Talia’s behalf, the woman in question was embarrassed, and as far as Catalin could tell, Amara was trying to smooth things over with everyone.

And even without the friction within the group, Catalin wondered if they would have anything to talk about besides work, anyway. But he put the thought out of his mind, and hoped that someone would suck it up and apologize. The silence was giving him the irrepressible urge to throw cookware at the wall.

Things between him and Chris didn’t change in the slightest, though, and Catalin was forced to acknowledge that they were irrevocably attached at the hip. He had known already, of course, but with the Citadel Ball approaching, their timing felt particularly bad. Catalin had never had to worry about anyone else before. He couldn’t say he liked the feeling.

But Chris kept him from thinking too much about it. They fell into a routine: they sparred together in the afternoons, then drank too much and got into trivial arguments about things like the merits of antibacterial soap. It was even more relaxing than polishing.

The only time it ever threatened to get serious was when Catalin caught Chris looking at him with an expression Catalin remembered looking up at once or twice, during the worst of his injury. The noble narrowed his eyes, more to see through the drunken haze than anything, and demanded, “Stop that.”

Chris grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.” Catalin shrugged and let it go. Chris resented worrying as much as he did.

The days passed in that exact manner until one night, after their spar, Chris declared, “We are the most depressing sons of bitches ever,” and forced Catalin to invite Kite and Talia to share a couple beers with them. By the end of the night, after the alcohol had loosened them up, Catalin also learned that he enjoyed their company, too.
At least he and Chris weren‘t the only ones with bad timing.

Then, finally, the afternoon of the Citadel Ball arrived.

Catalin sat on the couch, arms crossed and legs folded under him, and tried not to think about what would happen if the tension building in the room broke. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but he really liked that couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture he’d ever sat on, but it was reliable. Whether Kite twisted Damian in half, or Damian snapped and stabbed them all, Catalin could always count on that couch to be vaguely lumpy and smell like cheap perfume.

Judging by the frozen smile on Victor’s face, he was having similar thoughts. But he managed to say, “Now, let’s be mature, here. We’re just going to make sure that everyone’s on the same page tonight.”

“Oh no, I agree completely, Victor,” Damian said brightly. “It’s important that everyone knows what they’re doing. Someone might make a mistake otherwise!”

Kite made a noise in the back of his throat like a growling dog. Amara, who was sitting on Catalin’s left, muttered, “God, just whip them out already.”

“… right.” Victor’s shoulders slumped, but he soldiered on. “So I was thinking we would just quickly go over exactly what your individual jobs are tonight, so that everyone knows what everyone else is doing. Does that sound good?”

“That’s a good idea,” Chris said a little too loudly, looking to Catalin for support. He raised an eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. Poor Victor. He didn’t envy the man his new job as a kindergarten teacher.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about me stepping on anyone’s toes,” Saphie piped up, taking pity on Victor. “I’ll only be backup tonight… other than trying to gauge some of the public’s opinion on what we’re doing here, I won’t make any moves unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She paused, then frowned - it looked wrong on her face. “There has to be something else-”

“You’re in a good position with Carmine right now, Saphie.” Victor smiled down at her.
“Let’s not compromise it unless we absolutely need to.”

Saphie smiled back, but didn’t look the least bit convinced. Chris elbowed Catalin in the ribs, and he sighed. “When I get into the ballroom,” he said, “I’ll wait fifteen minutes, then get to the back of the citadel without anyone noticing. There’s a door next to the kitchens used by the servants that’s always locked from the inside. I’ll open the door and let the others in.” And then hopefully lose the dress. That monstrosity would be hell to fight in.

“Good so far,” Victor said. “And have you decided on a formation?”

“Yeah,” Kite said, puffing out his chest. “Turner and I are gonna take the front, and Cat’s gonna be our support. And Tal-”

“I’ll find a well-concealed place to fire from,” Talia said, glancing at where her bow lay propped up against the wall. Catalin thought he heard a tinge of nervousness in her voice.

“And this is all to give me time to address the party guests!” Damian finished.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say yet?” Victor asked.

Damian shrugged. “It’s a work-in-progress.”

“And after Leader finishes,” Chris added, “our first priority is escaping.”

“Exactly,” Victor said. “Our goal tonight is to make a big impression and recruit more numbers. Don’t fight any longer than you absolutely have to, and get out before the Carmine Guard arrives. It’ll be easier depending on how many of the people we contacted can make it-”

Catalin snorted under his breath; he thought no one aside from Chris and Amara would hear, but suddenly, the entire room was staring at him. “Well, they’re probably not coming, right?” Everyone continued to stare. “I mean, a lot of them are in hiding, or slaves themselves, so I wouldn’t blame them if they decided not to show.” More staring. Saphie and Kite were beginning to look crestfallen, and Damian’s hard smile made Catalin want to run for his life. He felt the blood rush to his face. “But it sounds like I’m the only one who feels that way so don’t worry about it or anything.”

“Oh, I was thinking the same thing,” Amara said. “But you don’t see me bursting everyone’s bubble about it.”

“Now, Amara…” Victor said, though he looked very disheartened. “Cat has a valid point. Just because it’s not something we might like to hear…”

Oh, fantastic, Catalin thought. Now I really do feel like an ass. “H-Hey, it doesn’t really matter what my opinion is, right? I mean, I’m…” He trailed off in embarrassment, and crossed his arms tighter.

“A pessimist,” Chris supplied.

“A jerkoff?” Amara said at the same time.

“Both,” Catalin muttered to his lap.

Just then, Catalin was saved by someone very pointedly clearing their throat out in the hall. Reiselle stepped into the common room and surveyed the scene, biting her lip to stem laughter. “Could I trouble you all to go upstairs, if it’s convenient? There’s something I wanted your opinion on.”

“It’s convenient,” Catalin said, and launched himself off the couch in his hurry to get out. Had he not been so anxious to leave the room, he might have wondered about Reiselle’s request; it was too early for customers, but he and the others had avoided going upstairs since Baltus’ visit. It was too unguarded, Victor said.

But Catalin just hurried up the stairs and through the trap door, which he regretted sorely later. If he had thought about it just a little, he at least wouldn’t have jumped so high at the roar that greeted him.

“Well, damn! Little Cat grew up!”

Reflexively, Catalin took a step back towards the trapdoor, but Reiselle had come up behind him, and she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him further into the room. In the little pink parlor stood at least twenty-five people that Catalin could see; there seemed to be a few more standing in the front hall. They all looked Victor’s age, maybe older, and shared the same worn clothes, darkly-circled eyes, and effervescent grins.

Amara vocalized his thoughts perfectly when she stepped beside him and blurted out, “Oh God. You showed up.”

Whatever cynical part of Catalin’s brain still worked wanted to point out that however many reinforcements had come, they might as well have been a knitting circle compared to the Carmine army. But they still had come. That alone was more than he expected.

Amara quickly disappeared from his side - though they still called her ‘Yer Highness,’ they seemed to prefer hugging to bowing to the floor. Catalin shrugged Reiselle’s hands from his shoulders and muttered, “You could have told me downstairs.”

“Of course I could have,” Reiselle said. Her hand hovered in the air for a moment, then she sighed in defeat and ruffed his hair. “But it’s so rare to see a Kasshen caught off-guard.”

“But what if a customer shows up?”

“Regrettably, All That Glitters has been booked by a large group tonight.” She smiled serenely. “So we’re unable to take customers.”

As the other Guardians filed into the room, Chris paused to beam at Catalin. The noble offered a flat stare back. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Hm?” Chris blinked. In the background, Amara could be heard stammering thanks, while she was told repeatedly that they were sorry more didn‘t come. “What’s this, now?”

“Why all these things keep happening to me.” Catalin slumped against the wall. “It’s because, all this time, the universe has just been doing the opposite of what I say.”

“… well if that’s the case,” Chris mused, “can’t you use your powers for good and say something like, ‘We’re all going to die horribly tonight?’”

“No, because now that I figured it out, the rules will change,” Catalin said. “So maybe everything I say will come true, but only on weekends.”

Chris only punched his arm in response.

“That aside,” a woman’s voice called over the crowd, as Catalin rubbed his bicep, “little Cat grew up so handsome! Though I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Are you actually going to wear a dress?” called a man in the front, who had one arm around Victor and the other around Amara. “Celeste would pitch a fit.”

“The Citadel Ball invitations have a ‘plus one,’ right?” asked another. “Are you taking applications?”

Catalin thought he was being teased, and had opened his mouth to shut them up when Reiselle spoke up again. “Sorry to disappoint, but Catalin already has a date.”

“What?” He spun around to face her. “With who?”

“Oh, didn’t we tell you?” Reiselle said. “Espen.”

He let out a bark of a laugh, just in case Reiselle was telling him a particularly unfunny joke, and turned to the one person in the room who still treated him like some punk kid. In response, Espen stepped out of the corner of the room, and ripped off his ever-present bandanna.

A ponytail - one long enough to mark him as a noble - fell down his back.

A wolf whistle from one of the cavalry sent the room into hysterics again, and Catalin wondered if it would really be a bad thing if he died horribly tonight.

***

“I, ah…” Talia stared down at the eye pencil as if it might bite her. “I don’t know what I should be doing with this.”

“That’s because you’ve never worn makeup for a second in your life, Tally!” Saphie sighed, taking the makeup bag from Talia. “Go and tie the back, okay? Cat, hold up your arms so Tally can tie the back.”

Catalin bit his lip and dutifully did as he was told. It seemed that getting him ready for the Citadel Ball had been enough to get everyone into one room voluntarily. Everyone except Damian, of course, but that was fine with Catalin. Damian would just try to shove him into a stuffed bra.

“It’s really a shame that I went with the pink ballgown,” Saphie lamented as she applied the makeup. “Light blue really is your color after all.”

“So why didn’t you get light blue?” Catalin asked, resisting the urge to blink as she jabbed the pencil into his eye.

“Our options were limited,” she said, “so be grateful we managed to find something at all.”

“… what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, um…” Saphie gestured uselessly. “We had to get it secondhand, and it had to fit over your uniform, and your shoulders…”

Catalin stared for a beat before asking, “What’s wrong with my shoulders?”

“Considering your height, they’re too narrow.” The sudden arrival of reinforcements had thrown Amara off her game, but she was trying to make up for it. “A man can’t have a sufficiently broad chest with such wimpy shoulders.”

“Well, sorry for having narrow shoulders,” Catalin muttered. “Who’s going to notice that anyway?”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with his shoulders.” Kite walked around behind Catalin with a grunt of disapproval. “No, Tal, you’ve always sucked at tying knots. Lemme do it.”

“Ahh…” Talia stood off to the side and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Then what should I do?”

“Watch,” Chris piped up, “and enjoy.”

After a lull, Amara set her chin on her palm and said, “I can’t believe they actually came.” Realizing her mistake, she quickly added, “After Cat went and depressed everyone and all.”

“They seem like good people,” Catalin said, almost to himself.

“Huh?” Chris tilted his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that come out of your mouth before.”

“Well,” he said, “they didn’t try to suck up to me, not like those retainers and advisers from before. They weren’t falling all over me going, you’re amazing, you’re amazing…” He felt Kite’s hands fumble, but only for a moment.

“I thought you’d be complaining more about having to date Espen,” Amara said.

Catalin shuddered. “Thank you. I had been blocking that from my mind. I can‘t believe that guy‘s a noble…”

“You should really be nicer to him,” Chris said as he leaned against the wall. “You remember Reiselle saying that he was handsome when he was young, right? So you might look like that when you’re pushing forty.”

As horrified as he was, Catalin started to laugh. “Don’t even say that! It’s disgusting!”

“Why is it suckin’ up if someone thinks you’re amazin’?” Kite suddenly asked, though he continued lacing the back of the ball gown.

“Hm?” Catalin twisted his head to look down at Kite. “Well, it’s dead wrong, isn’t it?” When Kite only looked at him blankly, he stumbled on. “I mean, if they say I’m good-looking or I’m smart, I can‘t contest that. But anything else-”

“You don’t think you have anythin’ besides that?”

“No…” Catalin shook his head. “It’s the truth.”

“Then maybe you aren’t as smart as you think you are,” Kite said, tying the strings in a knot so tight that it forced all the air from Catalin’s lungs. When he heard the gasp, Kite’s anger dissipated. “Ah, shit, did I hurt you?”

Amara sighed. “You were doing good for a second there, Kite.”

“Right,” Chris said, getting up and walking behind Catalin, “I’m just going to go ahead and redo that. If he blacks out from lack of oxygen, Espen’s going to have to catch him.” When Catalin tried to protest and only managed to cough, Chris punched the same arm again. “Breathe.”

“Somethin’ wrong?”

At first, Catalin thought Kite was talking to him, and he turned his head to point out that Kite was the one who caused it in the first place. He found himself face to face with Damian, instead.

“Ah…” Damian laced his fingers behind his back. “I just wanted to see how the preparations were going, and…”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Amara suddenly exploded, standing up and grabbing Damian’s arm. “Enough!” And while their leader was still too surprised to resist, she dragged him out of the room, down the hall, and into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“… wanted to see the preparations, huh,” Kite snorted. “Was checkin’ up on us, wasn’t he? I don’t know how I never noticed before, that personality of his.”

“I don’t think he’s a bad kid.” Saphie sank into a chair, lips tightly pursed. “But… I do get the feeling that he doesn’t trust any of us.”

Talia let out a single, wry laugh. “If our leader doesn’t trust us, where does that leave us?”

No one had an answer for that.

***

To Damian’s credit, he watched Amara slam the door behind her, growl, and make a few laps around her bedroom without raising a single objection. It wasn’t until she whipped around to face him and said, “All right, I’m going to talk now, and I don’t want to hear a word out of you until I’m finished” that he made a small sound of assent in his throat.

“I have no idea what your problem is, but it stops right now, okay?” She made an attempt to make the command sound like anything but the whining of a fifteen-year-old. It didn’t turn out the way she’d hoped. “You’re supposed to be a leader, aren’t you? What kind of impression do you think it sends if you treat them like they’ve already lost?”

“Can I just say something, really quick?” he interjected.

Amara’s arms dropped to her side. “Of course. You’re going to anyway.”

“If Talia had come to me earlier, I could have had time to prepare for her situation. It would have made her look more trustworthy, at least. But she kept it hidden from me until the last possible second. What sort of message do you think that sends me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she retorted, “that she wanted to keep her personal business to herself?”

“This isn’t the first time, either,” he jumped in before she could get going. “They’re unreliable, all of them. What about when Cat took off without telling any of us? Had he bothered to tell me, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten injured like he did. And maybe we wouldn’t be relying on the good graces of Derrick Baltus to stay alive. ”

“That was nearly two months ago!” She balled her fists. “You’re seriously going to bitch about that now?”

“Well, if all he’s going to say for himself is some half-assed apology-”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Damian,” she said. “Give it some thought for two seconds. Can you think of any reason why Cat might not like apologizing? Really, I realize this is hard for you, but-”

“Yes, you and Cat are just great friends now, aren’t you?” For one of the few times in his life, Damian sounded his age. “Allowing his insubordination…”

“I asked him to call me Amara!” The pacing started again. “You used to, too, remember? Back when you acted like an actual human being? Back then, weren’t you always carrying on about how amazing you all were going to be? Was there a reason that wasn’t good enough for you?”

He blinked, petulance gone. “… I was told, wasn’t I? That I’d just get everyone killed with that naiveté, and it was about time I embraced reality.”

“What?” A little of the anger ebbed, and she sank against the wall. “Who would have said something so monumentally stupid?”

Damian blinked again. “That’s what you told me three years ago, Your Highness.”

“… ah,” Amara said uselessly. “That was me, wasn’t it?” She impressed even herself with how quickly she recovered. “And you listened to me? Damian, I was twelve and pissed off at the world.”

“But you’ve always been right about these things,” he muttered, pointedly not looking at her. “So…”

“… listen,” she sighed. “Have you thought about what you‘re going to say to those people tonight?”

“Well,” he said, “I was thinking that if someone pointed out to them how little they’ve opposed the occupation-”

“Wrong,” she said as she crossed the room. “You’re trying to get them to commit to a dangerous cause that could get them all hanged, remember? You have to make them believe in what we‘re doing, and guilting ‘em won‘t work. So just… disregard everything I told you. Think of it as an order or whatever, because one of us needs to be the idealist here, and it’s not going to be me. The Damian I know could convince anyone of anything.”

At length, Damian shook his head with a dull laugh. “You say it like it’s so easy, Your Highness.”

“For the last time,” Amara said, “it’s A-”

He stepped forward, stood on his tiptoes, and kissed her.

Damian seemed to realize what he was doing almost immediately, and he tried to pull back, but Amara grabbed him by the shoulders and nearly lifted him off the floor as she pinned him to the wall, deepening the kiss. The sound of Damian’s back hitting the wall jolted her to her senses, but it was still another beat before she could step away.

They stood facing each other like that for what felt like a minute, in what must have been a very amusing tableau. Amara was sure she’d laugh later. Finally, Damian coughed. “I really should-”

“Yeah, you should,” Amara said, and she stepped aside to let him bolt out the door.

***

“Sure you won’t be cold?” Chris asked, trailing a few paces behind.

“I’m just going out for a minute,” Catalin said as he unlocked the deadbolt, craning his neck to face Chris as he pushed the door open. “The sheer amount of fabric in this monstrosity is going to suff-”

“Ah!”

Catalin swiveled back towards the door, half-expecting the worst, and when he saw what had caused Chris’ exclamation, he froze in the doorway. Chris hurriedly brushed past him and stepped outside, beaming. “Snow! I had heard it was rarer in the capital, too.” He glanced up and stretched out his hands. “Though this is barely more than a flurry, anyway. Back home it would have been snowing for months already.”

Catalin took a single, cautious step outside, then another. The light dusting of snow in the alleyway crunched under his boots, and very slowly, he pulled the glove off one hand, and extended it in front of him. His fingers curled instinctively as a snowflake landed on his palm. Cold and wet. Two things he hated rolled into one.

“What’s that look for?” Chris asked, momentarily withdrawing his tongue.

“… nothing,” Catalin mumbled. “This is the first time, is all.”

“Whoa, really?” Chris leaned forward. “You’ve never seen snow before? I didn’t think it was that rare here.”

“Not seeing it,” he said. “Standing in it.” Chris opened his mouth, but Catalin hurriedly continued before he could ask. “I was told that I wasn’t allowed. ‘You’ll catch your death out there,’ he said.” His fingers did curl this time. “I mean, I knew I‘d probably hate snow anyway, but still. There were a lot of things that weren’t allowed. Don’t eat between meals, it’s bad for you. You shouldn’t play that game, it’s dangerous. It would be better to avoid the other servants, they’ll be a bad influence on you. That kind of thing. Everything for my benefit, of course.”

“Of course,” Chris echoed darkly. “I can’t even imagine…”

Catalin turned to face him with a puzzled frown. “You didn’t ask.”

“Hm?”

“Oh, no, I just…” He shrugged. “I always thought that if I told you, you’d ask. Why I didn’t just disobey him, I mean.”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Chris shook his head. “Anyone in your position would have been terrified!”

“See…” Catalin picked an unidentifiable stain on the wall in front of him and stared at it. “It wasn’t even that, either.”

He heard Chris take a step closer behind him. “Cat?”

“… I wasn’t lying, you know, when I said I didn’t have it that bad.” Catalin rested one arm across his ribcage, but couldn’t seem to make the other do the same. Snow continued to fall onto his curved fingers. “Beatings, whippings, all of that, they were rare. When I did something he didn’t like, he never got angry or yelled. He’d almost… act understanding about it. And then he’d take something else away.”

He paused for a breath, but now that he’d started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. “I did fight it, for a while. I fought for a long time. I mean, I probably spent half my childhood kicking and screaming and crying, but the more I struggled, the more things he took.” The snow on his fingers had melted. “After all that, handing over my resolve to him was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Easy?” Chris repeated.

Catalin vaguely felt it for a moment: cold marble against his knees, a heavy metallic scent in the air, and Anwar’s voice asking, Will you behave?

“As easy as saying ‘yes.’” Exhaling, Catalin slid the glove back on and turned back to Chris. “As expected, I really do hate it-”

The entire brothel stood behind Chris, just in the doorway.

Catalin could only stand there uselessly for a beat; it was clear that they’d been there for most of the conversation, and they couldn’t have approached that quietly. He just hadn’t noticed their presence at all. He felt a little better when Chris, confused, followed his stare, and upon seeing their audience, blurted out, “Oh!”

Catalin cleared his throat pointedly, because it always made him feel like he was in the right, somehow. “Can I help you?”

“We just came out to tell you it was time,” Victor said, his usual smile looking a little halfhearted. “There’s a carriage out front.”

“You got me a carriage?” Catalin asked. He didn’t care if the subject change was obvious.

“Don’t expect anything fancy,” Amara said. She seemed a bit flustered herself. “It’s a rental. And Espen‘s driving.”

“That figures.” Something heavy fell onto Catalin’s shoulders, and he reached up to touch it. His fingers touched the fabric of a clock, and he glanced back.

Kite shifted his weight. “You almost forgot that.”

Catalin narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to give me a kiss for luck, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Cat. I’m a gentleman, here.” Kite paused meaningfully. “Unless you want-”

“Finish that sentence at your own risk.”

Kite grinned and shrugged. “Was worth a shot.”

“All right,” Reiselle said, pushing Espen to the front of the crowd. Catalin was forced to admit that, in a nice suit, he sort of looked the part. “Get going, you two.”

“Edmund and I will be there soon,” Saphie added. “But you’ll be fine without my help, anyway.”

Catalin understood what they meant when they followed him out of the alleyway and around front, and wished he could say he appreciated the sentiment. But there was something eerie about all of them trailing behind him like that, without a word. Some completely unfunny quips, even forced optimism, would have been less jarring. The carriage stood at the bottom of the front steps; anyone who saw it would just assume All That Glitters was entertaining a wealthy patron tonight.

Well, Catalin mentally amended, a patron barely wealthy enough to afford a carriage.

He met Chris’ eye, and had just long enough to catch the concern before Espen brushed past him to climb into the front, breaking their eye contact. By the time he looked back, Chris was grinning. “I’ll see you later.”

“… mm,” Catalin hummed, and grabbed the edge of the door to hoist himself up. Kite made a move to help him up, but Talia took hold of his collar and pulled him back. If Catalin wasn’t a slave again at the end of the evening, he would thank her.

He shut the door behind him, and a second later he heard Damian yelp, “Cat!”

Catalin made a move to turn back, but Espen started the carriage with an abrupt jolt, and he pitched forward. As he tried to right himself, Damian’s rapidly retreating voice declared, “It would have been better if you stuffed your bra after all!”

At length, he managed to climb on the bench, despite the carriage’s heavy shuddering. Rubbing his cheek where it had crashed into the wall, he muttered, “Was that supposed to be a ‘good luck?’”

Bad timing all around, it seemed.

Catalin settled himself in, and realized abruptly that, despite all the awkward silence that had pervaded the past few weeks, it was the first time in a long time that he was all alone. Which was just as well. He couldn’t believe he had spilled his guts to Chris like that - or that everyone had heard.

He leaned back, and inhaled: it came to him much slower and less vividly than the memory of the Anwar’s calm question, but little by little, he could remember all the times before that. His knees still rested against the cold marble floor, but he flexed the pins and needles out of his toes, wiped a sleeve across his eyes with one deft swipe, and thought, Okay. Okay. On the count of three, get up.

With a self-conscious laugh, well-aware that he was way too old for this, he muttered, “One. Two. Three.”