my heart's on fire—anditsdefinitelynotbecauseofyou

Nairn noted the way she spoke; they were together, dealing with the mech. It wasn't just him or her. Them. And he filed that away for later. He has nothing to say when she tells him that she might not sleep; she'd rather stare at him, convince herself that he's real. They entered the mess hall and separated after a moment. But not before he was red in the face, even the tips of his ears, catching the look of surprise as he'd hugged her. She looked at him like... he wasn't sure; was it a look that said he could do no wrong? Perhaps. Did he deserve that kind of reverence? Certainly not.

But she was walking away, and for the first time in a very long time, he watched her and didn't feel the need to chase her down. The subtle sway of her hips as she made her way from him made him chuckle. He'd wait until she joined the dwarves, and by this time, his blush had worn off.

Nairn doesn't get the chance to rejoin the table of children, who have eagerly piled their stolen goodies in the center of the table. A woman slipped up behind him, nodding towards John-Marc, and he nudged her towards the children, as he moved towards the center most table, where the old mage sat alone. Hands in his pockets, he didn't seem too concerned at being summoned in front of most of the guild.

[color=#419dc1]Why is she here?[/color] The room has fallen into silence, weary gazes wandering to fixate on the center most table. The older man did not raise his voice, though he did not speak in a whisper, either. He could be heard easily over the deadened silence that's ensued. 

'cause I want her here. Nairn stated as he leaned against the table, staring at the other man.

[color=#419dc1]Girl owes us no debt. Got no right to bring her here.[/color] The elder man stated, [color=#419dc1]Told her never to come back.[/color]

Nairn's index finger twitched, and he straightened. Smoothing out his shirt, he sucked on his teeth for a moment, let his gaze wander over to where the dwarves sat with Megara. If you're worried about debts, his lips curled into a smirk. Then let me pack my shit. I owe you nothin'. He watched how the other tensed and added: She'll be my responsibility. No-one else's.

John-Marc studied him in silence for a long moment. Nairn swore he could feel every eye in the mess on them. [color=#419dc1]She fucks up, you take the punishment.[/color]

Nairn stepped back from the table. She comes and goes like a member. All he received in return was a nod. As he walked away, he paused, his gaze sweeping across curious faces. Stop gawkin' and eat your dinner. He'd stay where he was, hands in his pockets, until people gradually resumed their chatter around their tables.

Snagging two plates off the line, he'd settle against the table that Meg and the dwarves were at, empty in one hand. As he joined them, one of the dwarves snorted, [color=#FF851B]You really shouldn't fuck with John-Marc. He's gonna murder you in your sleep, numbskull.[/color]

A shrug. He ain't that bad. S'long as you don't back down. Besides, he doesn't move as good as he used to. Old hands, arthritis, yanno? He chuckled quietly, and reached to smooth one of the plans laid across the table. It'd been curling at the corner. You find what you wanted? Directed to Megara, curious eyes searching her features.