[Past] You, Me and a Pitcher of Cream

The hard shove at the question was Nairn's only response. The answer was, he truly didn't think about it. He's not one for too many one-night stands, and he's never shown interest in any of the people that threw themselves at him. But he doesn't shove too hard; he knows that's why his old friend is teasing. Because between the two of them, Nairn was the least likely to show interest in someone.

He scowled as Ruth held the fabric up for him to see, his ears tinged red and he reached to snatch the scarf away. Hmph. Green's just a color, he insisted, fingers rubbing against the fabric, appreciating how well-made it was.

Nairn leaned back in his chair, glaring at the other elf. You're ridiculous. But he had a good point. That didn't mean Nairn was going to admit that. Or act on Ruth's suggestion to invite her over, just yet. He'd tuck the scarf into his pocket, fiddling with it even then.

Another moment of staring at Ruth, he'd shake his head. Get us another round. With those words, Nairn made his way across the floor, sliding into a seat next to Megara after tapping whoever had seated themselves next to her to slide down one.

...sorry 'bout Ruth. He's a bit much.