Raoul rubbed his hand down his face and sighed. It had been a long night. First his family's Midwinter party, and then the business with the lord of Stone Mountain…it had been a long time since he had felt this frustrated. Behind him he heard Buri moving about.

"Coming to bed?" She asked with a flirtatious smile as he turned to face her. She had removed the blanket and spread it out across the bed once more to reveal her naked body to his eyes.

Suddenly he felt self-conscious, aware of his own state of relative undress. "No- I'm sorry Buri, but could you just…go? It's not- I don't want- I just need some time alone after that…episode." He averted his eyes from her, but he knew her well enough to know that she had nodded in understanding.

"Of course." She said, gathering up her clothes. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He bent down to pick up her shirt and tossed it to her, barely containing the rage he knew would pour out of him at any moment. "Yes," he agreed through clenched teeth. "Tomorrow." There was a movement, then a hand on his arm as Buri swept out the door.

Raoul waited until he was certain that she was gone, and then turned slowly to his desk. There was a small drawer at the bottom; he opened it. Inside was a collection of small knives, some thin, some wider. He picked up one of the wider ones and tested its weight in his hand. Quick as a snake he spun around and threw it, straight at the target that he knew was hanging on the far wall. It stuck in the cork with a thud.

With a growl he stalked across the room and ripped it out, throwing it again. And again. And again, until soon he was letting out short yells of anger that he didn't even know he was making. Thud. Thud. Thud. Knock. Wait- what?

"Sir?" A timid voice called from behind the door leading to his study. "My lord?" With a scowl and another noise of fury he yanked the door open to see a worried Kel, still in her nightdress.

"What is it, squire?" He hissed at her.

Immediately he saw the hurt in her face, before she quickly slipped it behind the mask she so often wore. "I was- there were noises, sir, and I came to make sure that you were all right." She told him, her voice as even as her expression. Again there was a flicker of hurt in her eyes that turned to fear when she saw the knife in his hand, and the drawer open to reveal yet more knives.

Growling he turned and threw the knife into the board again, before walking over to pull it out, leaving the door open as an invitation. Kel entered slowly and sat down on his bed, silently watching him repeat his motions three or four times.

"How can you be so emotionless?" He shouted at her, spinning around to face her. "How can you just not care, after what happened out there?"

Startled, she took a moment to reply, choosing her words carefully as she watched her knight-master's chest heave in anger. "It's not that I don't care," she met his blazing brown eyes with her hazel ones. "In fact, I'm rather upset myself. His accusations were unfair and his insults uncalled for. However, I know that he was speaking out of grief." The corners of her mouth tugged down into a small frown. "As do you. Besides, at the end of the day, what good does throwing knives into a dart board do to help people?" She added with a wry smile. "I'd rather put my anger towards something worthwhile."

Raoul stared at his squire for a long minute. "You know," he said in a calmer voice. "You're the oldest seventeen-year-old that I've ever met." He sat down on the bed beside her.

She smiled at him again. "That reminds me of something Neal said, a long time ago." She rose, her expression warm and comforting, not judging him for his fit of rage. "I'm going to bed." She put her hand on his shoulder. "And you should too. It's my experience that things like this always look better in the morning." With a squeeze on his exposed muscle, she left, closing the door behind her.

Mechanically he did as she told him, blowing out the candle and crawling under the blankets. It wasn't until he was comfortably situated that his mind began to work again, but this time wearily, rather than angrily. How could someone who seemed to feel so little, he wondered. Understand someone who felt so much? Even Alana, the only person he knew who could lose her temper at the drop of a hat, had not understood his fits of anger. In the end, he had simply concluded that Kel was nothing like anyone else he knew.

And, he thought, just before he drifted off. I wouldn't want her to be.