DISCLAIMER: I own neither the Tortall series nor do I own the His Dark Materials series.

I think that Numair would be about thirteen or fourteen in this. I'd imagine that Numair might be a late bloomer, with his dæmon not settling forms until after most other people's would have. I'm going by his original name in this, since he didn't change his name till later in his adulthood in the Tortall universe anyways.

Daine's vocabulary is slightly different in this, since she would've been with Numair/Arram since his birth, so she's been forced to listen to him ramble about one philosophical matter or another for her entire existence (poor Daine...).

"Come on, Arram."

"Just a minute."

A sigh. "That's what you said a minute ago. At this rate, we're going to miss the party entirely."

"Oh, come off it. We've still got at least fifteen minutes before anyone even begins arriving. Besides, one must look one's best at such an important venue."

"You look fine, Arram. Goodness, it's not like Varice will even look at you twice anyways, so you may as well leave your preening and get on with it."

Arram turned to glare at his dæmon, his cheeks warming. "What does Varice have to do with anything?"

Daine shrugged, shifting into a squirrel as she leapt from a bookcase. "Well, isn't all this fussing about impressing her? Don't think that I haven't seen you moon over her every time she so much as turns in your direction." She gave a sniff. Arram yelped, scrabbling for a hold of his dæmon as she climbed up a trousered leg. "Daine, stop that! You're going to wrinkle my trousers!"

"Relax, your trousers are fine. Honestly, you'd think that you were going to be knighted, the way you carry on." Daine clung to Arram's shoulder, reaching to adjust stray hairs that had popped out of his sleek ponytail. "Bend your head, would you? There, that's a good boy. I really don't understand why you get so worked up every time Tristan invites you to these stupid parties. You'll be fine. You're smart, you're handsome and you're ten times what Tristan could ever be." Daine scampered around Arram to his other shoulder, proceeding to work from there. "Don't you ever let him tell you otherwise, because I know you much better than him. Varice will eventually see that Tristan is a certified greaseball and then she will see what a treasure you are. Alright, I'm done."

Arram straightened, adjusting his jacket. He turned to smile at his partner, who had shifted to an elegant mink. "Thanks, Daine. I wish that I had the confidence in myself that you do."

Daine nuzzled his chin affectionately. "You're so silly. If you can't believe in yourself, then believe in me who believes in you. Come on, we should get going."

"Yes, let's go," Arram stroked his dæmon's head gently. Really, who could ask for a better partner? "Daine?"

"Mm?"

"Have I ever told you how thankful I am to have you at my side?"

"Well, you could definitely stand to mention it more."

"Heh. Well, thank you. For everything."

"I love you too."

I'm not sure if I got the Gurren Lagann reference right, since I've never seen the show myself. I think that arguing with a dæmon is rather like arguing with yourself; you'll never win.

Aargh, I hope that I didn't make Daine and Numair too OOC...