Huaisang closes his eyes for a moment, thinking of sun-warmed fruit in a mountainside orchard, stone retaining walls in steps down the hillside, birdsong on the breeze. "Peaches, I think. Or cherries."

They reach the next gate to the north, which is much larger, and this one is flanked by guards who recognize Huaisang and bow to them. He bows back, polite and earnest and a little bit flustered by their deference.

"Oh, I'm no good at fighting," Huaisang assures him.

He relaxes visibly outside the palace walls, cheerier in a moment, and he loops his arm through Loki's to keep him closer and make sure they aren't separated in the busier streets of the city. "Is there a favorite place you've found, in your travels, or is it the novelty that appeals to you?"