Author's Note: No Nuila this time around... but Xan still has plenty to reflect upon, and we see a little bit more of his developing friendship with Imoen:)

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All I wanted was the chance to say

I would like to see you in the morning.

Rolling over to have you there,

Would make it easy for a little bit longer.

-- Travis, The Fear

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They had not shared a reverie the previous night. It hadn't surprised him, really... their conversation had only served to make relations between himself and Nuila confused, at least -- though he would go further and declare them as strained. So when, that morning, she'd head out from the tavern, intending to seek some other villainous criminal wanted by the Amnish Guard, Xan had opted to stay behind. And this had earned him a day with Imoen.

He'd risen before the rest that morning, quietly descending to the common room before dawn broke. He'd been hoping their leader would come down next, and alone -- then he would have tried to explain himself, apologised for his actions perhaps. Tried to wash it away as if it had never happened, even if it meant accepting that there would never be anything more between them. But he was denied even that; she came with the others, all at once, and he received only a muted wish of a good morning from her lips.

And then she'd spoken of her intention, and the lap-dog paladin had barked his eagerness to travel beside her. Branwen had gone after them, without a word, and Tiax had seemed genuinely torn over the company to choose, muttering and complaining about the two poor options. Xan had been glad to discover that his companionship was seen to be that bit worse than Nuila's, though he felt a measure of sympathy for her.

Imoen had initially followed them, before bounding back in, just as he'd been expecting a peaceful day. Perhaps one where he could have quietly packed and taken his leave. Obviously the Seldarine were against this plan -- pink-hair happily explained how she'd bartered a visit to Garrick in the afternoon as a way to buy her freedom from Nuila's determined forays into the lands of seasoned adventurers. That, Imoen explained, meant that he had the whole morning to teach her!

Pink-hair's enthusiasm for learning was almost as great as his own had been. She seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for any knowledge he was prepared to share with her, though quite often her concentration would wander and she would become distracted -- sharing some tale of her past with him, whether he was interested or not. He generally always was, but he was not going to reveal this to her. Her human mind could not embrace the Weave like that of an elf, and she needed her full attention to stay aware of what was happening. He did, however, have to admire the effort she generally put in.

And so the morning was spent, a lazy time in a nearby meadow under the gaze of the sun. It was almost too close to the conditions of the previous day, and Xan had to try hard to not let his thoughts become filled with vision of Nuila's confused and annoyed face. The whole conversation had played on his mind as he'd tried to rest the previous evening, and it had taken many hours before he eventually passed into a fitful reverie, filled with images he hoped he'd never have to face again. But now they were in his conscious thoughts, torturing him and reminding him constantly. He sighed heavily with resignation; there was nothing else he could do. He would have to talk to her.

All too soon, it felt, he was being dragged towards the Temple of Helm to visit their poorly bard. There was no one around in the nave, and only a solitary girl sat in the chancel beside the altar at the far end of the building. Her soft singing could be heard by them both as they quietly made their way to the small passage that led down to the healers rooms, and for one small moment, Xan felt as if he could close his eyes, forget where he was, and imagine himself -- will himself -- back to Evereska.

But it would be foolish, and he knew it. And though the girl's singing was undeniably beautiful and haunting, it was still the voice of a human, singing in common about her human gods. No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't have been able to ignore those small factors. Everything was out to show him how far away from home, and from his own circle of comfort he was.

Garrick was propped up in a comfortable looking bed with a multitude of cushions around him and a mug of some faintly steaming liquid in his hands. He looked perfectly fine to Xan, the slight bruises and cuts he'd had having been wiped away by the prayers of the faithful. Imoen bounded over to him, settling herself down on the edge of the bed as she pulled something out from her pocket and handed it over to him, and Xan groaned. She'd stolen a bunch of grapes that had been resting on the table at the entrance of the tavern, though the bard didn't seem overly bothered by the fact her goods were so obviously stolen.

"So Garry, how ya doin'?" she asked, getting straight to the point as Xan floated over to stand beside one of the tall, arched windows that looked out over the cemetery. Hardly a view to inspire overwhelming happiness, but he found it was marginally better than having to look at Garrick for any length of time.

"Much better now, thanks," Garrick said, eagerly helping himself to some of the grapes, and popping a few into his mouth. Not as many as Imoen had managed; Xan watched in morbid fascination as the young human girl forced more fruit into her mouth than should have been possible.

"Some of the younger female members of the church are quite zealous about their intentions to help a poorly young feel better," the bard added, winking slyly at pink-hair. Xan rolled his eyes and turned back to the window.

"Gosh… you didn't? You... did? You sly dog, Garrick! But surely not... by Mystra's Magic Macaroni! In a temple of the All-Seeing Eye?!"

Garrick sniggered softly, nudging the gaping Imoen with his elbow as he widened his eyes suggestively, and jerked his head to the side. Xan followed the signs and looked over to see a pretty enough human girl busily scrubbing the floor in the dormitory across the hall from the bard's room. Imoen gaped a bit more, before turning back to him and squealing quietly.

"Oh, just wait until I tell Nuila! She's never gonna believe this!" Imoen exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper. It was all Xan could do to stop himself snorting.

"Well, I could hardly say no," Garrick replied quickly, his eyes roaming over to the acolyte absently. "But, er, maybe we shouldn't let Nuila into our secret... After all, she doesn't need to know, does she?"

Imoen grinned widely at him. "Ah, in case she gets upset that ya... danced the forbidden dance elsewhere? I didn't know ya were still holdin' out for her..."

It was Garrick's turn to smile, though his expression retained the smug arrogance that Xan felt increasingly irritated by. "Well, there's no point in hurting her, not when she doesn't need to know..."

Imoen just nodded knowingly to him, tapping her nose slightly in some strange human ritual to signify a safe secret, apparently. Xan just shook his head slightly, content to keep out of the conversation as much as he could, even when Imoen changed the subject and began to excitedly tell Garrick about the lessons she'd had with Xan that morning. In fact, the only time he did speak, was to catch her arm, and sternly utter her name before she could try out the acid arrow cantrip.

They left shortly after, and Xan was surprised to see the young girl's expression slowly turn darker as they wandered out into the late afternoon sun. He followed as she stalked her way over to a grassy spot, right in the centre of a cluster of graves, he noticed gloomily, and threw herself to the ground, glaring absently at the world around her. Cautiously he sat beside her.

"What gives him the right to be like that!" she exclaimed after a few moments. "How dare he insinuate he's been with some girl, an' then expect me not to tell Nuila!"

Xan's eyebrow rose. "You don't sound wholly convinced of his activities within the Temple of Helm," he noted.

Imoen snorted loudly. "It's Garrick we're talkin' about, remember? You really think a girl that pretty would even look at him twice? I know I wouldn't!"

Xan felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and he resisted the urge to grin.

"I mean, since he's been with us, he's tried it with Branny, me and Nuila... I think he'd even have tried it with Tiax had he thought he had any chance of success! An' he still thinks he's got a chance with her..." Imoen shook her head as if in disbelief. "Well, even if he did -- which I know he doesn't -- he certainly won't when I tell her what he's been sayin'."

Xan pondered for a moment. "You think it's in her best interests to tell her, then?"

"Course I do!" Imoen replied indignantly, her hands plucking blades of grass from the ground rather viciously, before discarding them and letting them blow away in the gentle breezes. "I mean, I'll be careful how I say it -- just that he's sayin' he's found someone in the temple, but I don't know if he's tellin' the truth or not, and she needs to make it clear to him, for once an' for all, that she's not interested."

Xan cleared his throat. It had suddenly gone very dry. "She... she's told you about her... interests?"

The girl gave him a sly look from under her mop of pink-hair. "Sure has! There's no secrets between us... about anything."

"I... see." Suddenly Xan felt very hot and very uncomfortable. His hand went up to the collar of his robes, trying to make it wider. It felt as if they were trying to suffocate him.

"Every time another man joins the party we share views," Imoen continued, quite candidly. She was looking straight at him, but he avoided her gaze by looking anywhere else. With some desperation, he tried to concentrate on reading the nearest gravestone.

"We didn't really do it with Khalid, of course, because... well, he's old an' married!"

A bard, of sorts, with skill in rhyme and reason made the words come clear...

"Then there was Minsc, but he was a bit strange and we didn't really know what to make of him. He was kinda sweet though -- was a shame he decided to leave us like that."

He gladly wrote for all to hear and therein lies the rub, my friends...

"Course, then we came across Kivan... boy, he was dreamy! I think it was that broodin' appearance, ya know? Shame he was a bit distracted an' all -- he didn't seem to realise we were more than just kids!"

He set his starts too far from ends, so "less is more" or go unread...

"Course he was soon forgotten, because we met Ajantis! He's a real gentleman, doncha think? Well, compared to Tiax he is, anyways, but that wouldn't be so hard I guess."

A lesson learned. Too bad I'm dead...

"And there's you, too."

His eyes stayed on the inscription. His mind wished it was referring to Garrick. The silence lingered, and he knew she was watching him expectantly. For that reason alone, a pinkness crept into his cheeks, and it took her only a few seconds to notice.

"You're blushin!"

"I'm warm," he replied stiffly, fanning himself with a hand as he idly glowered up to squint at the sun.

"Suuuuure," the girl giggled. "If ya say so -- ya won't want to know what we said about you then, will ya?"

He felt his teeth clenching -- not in anger or annoyance, but in resistance to asking a question he could only -- he would only -- regret. The girls giggling eventually faded, and he jumped slightly as he felt her touching his arm, her face suddenly sombre and serious.

"I'm sorry," she said, reminding him very much of Nuila. How many characteristics did they share, having grown up so closely together? "I didn't mean to upset ya."

He shrugged slightly, waiting until she'd removed her hand before he stood up, brushing down his robes to remove the dust and occasional razed piece of grass. "You didn't," he lied, absently noticing how dull his robes seemed to be these days, and how worn his cloak was. He let out a long sigh.

"C'mon," Imoen said, her voice strangely quiet and without the pestering tone that he was so used to hearing. "Let's go back to the inn an' wait for the others to come back. You can show me a bit more about that acid spell, an' make sure I won't do anythin' stupid if I try an' cast it when we're next in a fight!"

Her smile was infectious, and he found himself responding to it weakly, letting her link her arm in his as she dragged him purposefully back towards the tavern. Soon, the others would return, fresh from their bounty hunting, and he'd have to face another evening of a stony Nuila...

At some point, he had to talk to her.