Frankenstein hesitated at the doorway. It was a miracle that he was able to keep his mouth shut and prevent himself from gaping like an idiot.

Raizel was clearly waiting for a response. Not impatiently, but like he was allowing Frankenstein to take as long as he wanted to respond to the preparation of the tea.

That only made Frankenstein more uncomfortable.

"...thanks?" It sounded like a question, but it was an honest one. What was this being doing making him tea? "I'll just...clean myself up for a bit."

Raizel only nodded, and Frankenstein resisted the urge to back up into the stairs and not take his eyes off of the Noble. Instead, with an amazing amount of self-control, he turned his back on Raizel and deliberately headed for his room.

What, what, what, what?

What was the Noble doing out of his coffin? What was he doing making him some tea? Why didn't Frankenstein sense his presence earlier?

More importantly, what now?

He resisted the intense urge to run his dirty hands through his hair. Instead, he ran his hands through the water in a bucket and hastily dried them. With his hands now clean, his mind focused on the particular situation currently sitting downstairs in his kitchen. Did the Noble mean to harm him? If so, then why offer him tea?

But just from looking at this Noble, at Raizel, Frankenstein could not find him at all threatening. He would berate himself about not judging anyone or anything based on first impressions and appearances, but Raizel did not seem capable of malice. If anything, he seemed to wear a blank expression and communicate with his eyes. Every emotion and intent were in the depths of his eyes, and they contained no animosity.

Descending the stairs, Frankenstein found Raizel waiting in the kitchen. Frankenstein watched him as he approached the chair. Sitting down he glanced at the cup of tea before looking back at the Noble. With careful fingertips, he picked up the cup and tried not to wrinkle his nose. The uncrushed herbs floated in the hot water. Sniffing, he detected a strong scent of thyme.

He suppressed a grimace. So, the Noble did not know how to make tea.

To avoid offending the Noble, Frankenstein took a tentative sip before placing the teacup back down. Biting the inside of his cheek, he prevented the gag from bubbling forth at the taste. He glanced at Raizel who had also quietly sat down in front of him.

"I am glad you are feeling better," Frankenstein started. Perhaps 'better' should have been used lightly. The Noble looked so pale and dangerously small. Did he have anything to eat? Frankenstein immediately got up and retrieved the leftover bread and jam and set it in front of the Noble. "Still, you must be famished. You haven't eaten in three days."

Raizel nodded as he glanced at the offered food. "Thank you."

It was on the tip of Frankenstein's tongue to ask him how his wounds were healing. He already knew that Nobles had an incredible healing rate, but the doctor inside of him could not help but inwardly fret over a patient. Did the bandages need changed? Was there an infection?

"I reckon that was a healing slumber you entered," Frankenstein stated. He traced the rim of the teacup with his finger, unwilling to finish the well-meaning yet inedible gift.

Raizel nodded as he held the bread in his hand, staring at it with curiosity. Once again, his mannerisms looked young and innocent, like a child fascinated with a new toy. His hands delicately poked at the bread before setting it back down on the plate. He stared at the food, as if mystified.

Frankenstein frowned. Would this Noble offer him any information? Prodding him would take some time.

"Was your slumber successful?" he asked.

"Somewhat." Raizel cocked his head in thought, finally looking away from the bread. "I woke up too early."

Frankenstein raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How long do your healing slumbers last?"

"Years."

Frankenstein sat upright. "Years?" he demanded. He did not know why this surprised him. He knew Nobles lived longer than humans. But to remain in a state of hibernation for years just to heal from wounds?

He paused. Actually, that would be a good idea. It was a doctor's dream to have a patient who could sit still and allow the body to traverse through the slow healing process.

Raizel nodded once more. "But I woke up early."

Frankenstein leaned forward, folding his hands together. "Why did you wake up early?"

"Your thoughts. They were noisy. I couldn't sleep."

Frankenstein blinked. "Oh. Sorry." Never had he ever apologized to anyone for thinking before.

"You were also agitated," Raizel continued. "Especially when the intruders came into your home."

Frankenstein blinked once more. Intruders? He slowly smiled when he determined that there was only one incident when Frankenstein felt as if he was being intruded upon. "Keit and his men are harmless," he stated. "Though they can be a bit nosy."

Raizel frowned. "They were not intruders?"

"More like interlopers. Their timing was inconvenient for me." He stood up, taking his teacup with him. The water in the pot was still hot, perfect for a new and edible cup of tea. As Frankenstein pulled out another cup, he stated "However, Keit is a determined man and is still wary about you. As of now, anyone he does not recognize in this village will be suspected as the injured intruder he was tracking."

He cleared his throat. Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his legs. "Since your hibernation was interrupted, will you go back to sleep in that coffin?"

Raizel shook his head. "I will rest, but not in the coffin." He wrapped his hands around the teacup and savored its warmth. "My body has healed from the significant damage. For now, that is enough."

A thought occurred to Frankenstein, and he leaned forward with curiosity. "Were you disturbed from your rest when they opened the coffin?"

"A little," he admitted. "But I did not want to wake up. So, I stayed still so that they would not know I was alive."

Frankenstein processed those words. He had wanted to fool Keit and his men when they had opened the coffin? "Why?"

"You had told them that I was already deceased," Raizel answered. "To imply anything else would have discredited you."

Frankenstein grinned in amusement. "You were playing dead."

Raizel looked confused. "I was pretending to be a deceased human."

"Yes, well," Frankenstein said with another smile. "That is what I meant."

A look of sheer confusion came across Raizel's face, and he looked down at his teacup. "Oh."

Frankenstein debated on whether or not to launch into a conversation on what exactly 'play dead' meant for the confused Noble, but he decided against it. It was not a necessary topic to dwell upon. Besides, he had more pressing topics to discuss with the Noble.

"What will you do now?" Frankenstein asked.

Raizel paused. His gaze grew distant as he stared listlessly at his cup. "I do not know." His tone, usually soft, was now so heavy with a hidden emotion. Frankenstein realized with a start, that the Noble was not merely thinking about what he should do since his body needs time to heal, but rather, he was dwelling on other matters that were more troublesome than an injured body and a watchful village leader.

"Well," Frankenstein started slowly as the silence stretched on. "I understand that my medical knowledge does not match up with that of a Noble, but I would like to examine your wounds before you go."

Raizel's gaze snapped away from the cup that he had been staring at. His eyes carried within the depths of those crimson irises the same emotional burden that his voice had carried. His expression was like that of a perfectly polished statue, frozen and motionless. It was the eyes that Frankenstein needed to read to assess what the Noble was feeling.

"Okay," Raizel answered. His hand rose to touch the side of his ribcage where the claw marks were. "It hurts here."