"Are you alright?"
Daine dropped her key, startled, when Numair appeared at his own doorway. They were rooming next to each other, doors both tucked into a far corner of the visitors wing.
"Did something happen?" She picked up the key, looking up at him. Early dawn light was sifting through the breezeway and the early-birds were beginning to chip, but he looked far from rested. His shirt, half-tucked into his breeches, was rumpled. His eyes were tired in a way she had seen plenty of times; always after a sleepless night spent hovering over some arcane tome.
"No," he swallowed, looking her up and down. "You didn't come back last night. I was worried something had happened."
"Oh," she blinked, taken aback. "No; I'm fine."
He gave her an odd look, glancing down the hall before leaning in, "it's just —we're in a foreign kingdom. You never know what could happen."
She laughed at this, "Numair, if this was like Carthak, trust me when I'd say you would know if something were wrong. I wasn't exactly subtle, was I?"
That earned a smile, albeit a small one. "I suppose not." He stood straight again, but still hesitated. "It there's anything that I should know, though—"
She sighed and leaned against her door-frame, crossing her arms across her chest. She took her time, making her decision, before speaking, "There isn't anything you need to know, but you're right: I didn't come back to my own rooms last night."
He cocked his head, bemused, and she pressed on, "I was with someone." This was a delicate moment, she knew, but for some reason it felt like one that was also overdue.
"Oh," he replied so quietly she saw it more than heard it. He stood straighter and placed his hands in his pockets. "I hadn't realized—" he faltered.
"Realized what?" She cocked her head; that she took lovers?
"That you had met someone special," he shrugged and looked at his feet.
"Ah," it was her turn to stumble. She suddenly felt the need to balance being forthright and phrasing her words delicately. No need to be cruel, should someone overhear. In the end, that had never been her strength. "Not particularly, to be honest."
"But," he shook his head, obviously confused, before seeming to think better of it. He was smart enough to know to avoid implications he didn't mean.
She laughed, softly, understanding his expression anyway. "I'm private, Numair. That doesn't mean I don't, on occasion, enjoy the company of men."
"Of course, I just never—" he swallowed. "You've never mentioned anything before." She could see him struggling, not so dissimilar from when he discovered that he had mistranslated something or missed a volume in some collection. Frustration at discovering he didn't know the whole truth.
"You never asked," she hadn't meant it to be so pointed, but it was. Two possible meanings. One a lack of inquiry, the other a lack of action—and opportunity. She'd let him choose which one to take from her words.
When he didn't answer, she smiled at him and unlocked her door, "I'm going to take a bath; you're welcome to join me for breakfast afterwards, if you'd like."
With that she slipped into her own room, leaving him in the hall. Someday, he would have to choose to knock or accept that the door may close forever. But not yet.