my heart's on fire—anditsdefinitelynotbecauseofyou

Nairn watched as she pulled his hand into hers, listening as she spoke. He was quiet, watching where she placed the stone, how their hands rested against the stone. His attention was captured by the light peeking through the gaps in their hold; startled by the fact he was pretty sure the stone was beating like a heart.

He was quick to pull his hand away, as they dropped back to the table. And then she presented the stone to him, and he reached for it, brushing his thumb along it. It was definitely beating.

And as he picked it up, his lips turned down at the corners. He studied the strange trinket, critical of it, before he spoke, the frown falling away. Thank you.

He tucked the trinket into his pocket, and made a mental note to have someone good with cloth give him a little bag to wear around his neck. But I'm still going to follow you.

The mess is emptying slowly, people are finishing up and shuffling on their way. And Nairn settles in to properly eat, unwilling to be the last person in the room with John-Marc. He might not be afraid of the old wizard, but that doesn't mean he enjoys his company anymore than he has to be in it.

...besides.

He's been promised an interesting dessert. So, he spoke around a mouthful of food. I know you're still a healer, and about Arlathan—but why does Ruth live with you? It's not jealousy, but curiosity. ...After all, he'd witnessed her turn Ruth down more times than he cared to count in their younger days.