"Why in the name of the nine divines must we go all the way to Markarth just to see a blacksmith?" Erik the Slayer was all for adventure, but the journey from Windhelm to Markarth would take more than a day, even by horse.
"I have business specifically with the blacksmith there, that's why," Ashildr defended. Erik noticed she was absent-mindedly playing with the Amulet of Mara that hung from her neck.
"By the Nine! You love him, don't you? You're in love with the Orc!"
Ashildr may have been quick with a sword, but not so much with words. She stammered, "I don't! Why would you- I can't- He's just-"
"A friend?" Erik finished. "A friend you go out of your way to see all the time! You don't have specific business that only Moth gro-Bagol can take care of; you just want to see him!"
"Stop this nonsense, Erik," she insisted angrily.
"I don't know how I didn't see it sooner! You only don that amulet when we're going to Markarth. You're trying to let him know you're interested!"
"Erik," she warned, a flame beginning to glow in her left hand. She'd never really hurt her friend, but he was starting to piss her off.
"OK, OK, I'm sorry," he responded kindly, backing off with his hands raised. "I'll shut up."
She squeezed her hand into a fist, extinguishing the flame. Without another word, she finished loading her gear onto her horse.
After a long silence between the two of them, Ashildr finally spoke. "He's just so handsome, and strong. And kind to me."
A winning grin spread across Erik's face.