my heart's on fire—anditsdefinitelynotbecauseofyou

Nairn rolled his eyes as she declared dying wasn't allowed, but said nothing more. It'd been a joke, perhaps a poorly timed one, given their circumstances. He'd apologize later.

When she owned up to acquiring a taste for Starky Brew, he raised his eyebrows. Ruth, babysitting? He's usually the one with the babysitter, no? He teased, twisting in his seat to watch her leave. He sat half-turned, pouring some of his chosen ale into a mug.

So... Who is she? One of the dwarves leaned forward. She's cute. She like dwarves? They asked, completely serious.

Nairn sniffed, and straightened. She's my partner. Healer by trade, too kindly hearted. He'd never told them who he was following; and they figured the less they knew about the Coterie's going-ons, the quicker they might be able to leave without owing a debt or keeping a secret.

She got a heart of gold if she forgave you like that, the other said, snapping their fingers to prove their point. You sure she ain't gonna stab ya in your sleep?

Nairn's nostrils flared, and he let his gaze wander back over Meg, following her movements as she filled her plate. Nah. She might stab me, but nowhere that'll cause damage. He chuckled quietly.

She okay with your job? Nairn rolled his shoulders at that question, and drifted into silence. He took a deep swallow from his mug. Contemplating.

Ask her yourself. That was going to be the easiest way to explain it; how someone who'd heal almost anyone, could love a killer like him. They just had to ask her the question themselves.

The two dwarves grunted and grumbled at his answer, huffing as they left the table. Nairn sipped his drink again, smirking into the cup.