Numair stood in the kitchen, humming a little to himself as he cut fruit on a plate. Daine was off flying, as she often did early each morning, checking the weather and stretching her wings. This left Numair on his own, preparing breakfast. He rather liked his private mornings, all things considered; it gave him time to get over being grumpy from waking, and time to think. He sliced a strawberry in half because Daine liked them in halves, the knife thudding in a satisfying sort of way against the wooden cutting board.
Their guest had still not shown himself and breakfast was almost ready. Numair put the strawberries on the plate and brought it, along with a plate full of scrambled eggs, out to the small table in the dining area. He lifted a robe from the back of a chair and strode to a window.
"Daine! Jack!" he called, letting his voice carry. "Breakfast!"
His tower was built in such a way that his voice should carry from this window to the guest bedroom window. Hopefully Jack would hear him; whether or not Daine was close enough was anybody's guess. The responding falcon's scream from above answered that question nicely, Numair thought with a smile. He stepped away from the window.
There was a short moment of silence after the echoes of the cry faded and then a small, familiar bird rocketed down from the sky. Numair grinned at her as she soared into the room and he held out the robe. "Good morning, dear one. How was the view?"
The small bird whistled at him and swooped to land on the floor beside the table, shifting and changing, and Daine, lovely and bare of clothing, was standing where it had been. She took the robe from Numair gratefully, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Fine! Looks like it's going to be sunny today, like yesterday. I heard from a turkey vulture that there are some clouds a couple miles off, but I didn't see any. How's our guest?" She tied the cinch on the robe, and then smiled warmly at Numair.
"Still not down," he replied, smiling back and then stealing a real kiss. When he broke away she grinned and he affectionately tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. Then, with a frown, he looked out the doorway and up the stairs, where the morning light made patterns of bright yellow squares on the cut stone. No one was watching; good. On second thought, Numair pondered distractedly, that meant that their guest still had not come down for breakfast. "Jack!"
"Good. I'll go put something on." Daine kissed Numair's cheek again with a playful smile and went to go upstairs, when Jack Harkness, dressed in his peculiar clothes, peeked out of the stairwell. He walked quietly, enough so that neither Daine nor Numair had heard him.
"Did you call?" he asked softly. Then he blinked at Daine in her bathrobe. "Am I interrupting something?"
Daine stared at him, and Numair felt his cheeks heat up. "Breakfast's ready," Daine told him, her own cheeks a little pink, before Numair could reply. "I was just checking the weather. When I shape change, I don't have any clothes." She shrugged uncomfortably.
"That's inconvenient," Jack remarked, stepping down the last two stairs and making his way over. "Well. Depending on the circumstance, I guess." He leered a little, but it didn't look heartfelt.
Daine stiffened and Numair growled. Jack shot them both a sidelong glance and then sighed. He strode over to the table and rested a hand on the back of one of the four chairs. "You made breakfast?" he asked, eyes landing on the platter. He seemed surprised.
"Eggs, fruit," Numair muttered sourly, trying not to glare obviously. "Go change, sweet," he added to Daine, voice a little imperious, which tended to happen when he was feeling protective. She shook herself a little and gave him a warning look, and with a nod to Jack, she left.
"Enough," Numair snapped as soon as the sounds of her footsteps up the stairs faded.
"What?" Jack asked. He had been pulling out a chair, but now he froze mid-gesture. The easy grin faded from his face and he suddenly looked ready to bolt.
Numair scowled at him. "We took you in as a guest. You will not make Daine uncomfortable."
Jack stared at him, but he could not hide the sudden humor in his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, and he sat down. Scooting the chair up to the table, he grinned mischievously up at Numair. "What about you, big boy?"
Taken aback, Numair did his best not to gape at him. "I beg your pardon?" he demanded, flushing slightly. He hadn't been expecting that.
Jack looked at him up and down rather lasciviously, and then something broke. His face crumpled, and Numair just gave in and gaped, face reddening further, as Jack started to chuckle. Numair continued to stare at him in bemusement as Jack's quiet chortles became full blown guffaws, and he leaned back in the chair, laughing, voice cracking into hysteria.
"If you're quite finished," Numair snapped after a moment, pulling himself together.
"Oh, oh, it's been a long time since I laughed that hard," Jack gasped, still snickering. "You remind me of somebody I once knew, Numair Salmalin. Listen." He wiped his streaming eyes and leaned forward, all seriousness now, elbow on the table and he locked eyes with Numair.
"I'm sorry I made you both uncomfortable. First of all, I have no intention of- of doing anything to your Daine—which, by the way, she's quite the catch for you, so congratulations on that. Second of all, if I really wanted to, I doubt I could. She's tougher than she looks, I imagine, as are you." He quirked an odd, almost wistful smile at Numair. "And I can tell just by looking at you, you're both exclusive. Where I'm from, we throw this sort of thing around. That's all." He paused for a moment and then shook his head, sighing. "It's just words, Numair, but I'll tone it down if it makes you feel better. That's a promise."
Numair gave him a long, hard look. Exclusive was an odd way to put it, he supposed, but he agreed vehemently with the statement. The mage nodded and rested a hand on the back of a chair. "You ought to tell Daine that," he said, but privately made note that if the man took a step out of line, he would turn him into something unpleasant. A cactus, maybe? "And I'll trust you to keep your word."
Jack recoiled as though Numair had struck him. Numair blinked, surprised at the violent response. He pulled out the chair and sat at the table, watching Jack curiously.
"You shouldn't," Jack whispered. His eyes had dropped to the tabletop, and his shoulders were ridged.
Numair passed him a plate, bemused by his abrupt change in tone. "I shouldn't?" Had Jack somehow heard his internal threats? They weren't really heartfelt—Numair didn't make a habit out of turning people into plants, Tristan Staghorn notwithstanding.
"Bad things happen," Jack said softly, taking the plate and meeting Numair's curious gaze guardedly, "to people who trust me."
Just then, Daine thunked and thudded down the stairs. Numair's attention was effectively stolen away. He turned toward the stairwell to greet her with a smile and a plate full of food. "Eggs, sweet?"
"Yes, thank you." She accepted the food and sat down next to him.
"I apologize," Jack told her once she had herself situated. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Where I'm from - we sort of throw words around." He smiled, hesitant.
Daine relaxed beside Numair, and he felt some of his earlier tension leave him. Good, he thought. "That's alright," she replied with an easy smile. "I just wasn't expecting it." She glanced at Numair suspiciously.
"What?" Numair asked, the picture of innocence.
"What did you say?" she demanded, and Numair spluttered. Jack laughed.
"He didn't say anything," he grinned. "He was concerned for your well being, and you're a lucky girl, Veralidaine Sarrasri."
Daine blinked. Then she turned and looked at Numair, eyes twinkling. "I suppose I am," she said wryly, and Numair decided that he felt a bit more charitable to their new acquaintance after this conversation. He smiled affectionately at Daine.
She grinned back and then turned to Jack. "There's a town about two hours down the road," she said, picking up a fork. "We can probably get your coat fixed there, and you'll also need a horse; it's a bit long to walk all the way back to Corus in a few weeks." She took a bite of her breakfast.
"Corus?" Jack asked in a surprised tone, following Daine's lead and spearing a piece of fruit to put on his plate.
Numair started filling his own plate. "The capital," he supplied. "There's a castle and a city. If you need a place to stay, we can work something out."
"A place—to stay?" Jack looked baffled, pausing midway through taking an egg. "I—thank you, but I shouldn't be staying long," he added, depositing it on his plate. "I'm a bit of a traveler, you see." He dropped his eyes again and frowned, beginning to cut up the egg he'd just taken.
Daine swallowed a mouthful of food. "A traveler," she repeated skeptically.
Jack shrugged at her and took a bite of breakfast.
"I don't suppose you're going anywhere in particular?" Numair asked.
Jack shook his head, swallowed, and replied, his voice oddly reluctant. "Just traveling. Haven't got a home, not anymore."
Numair recognized that tone; he'd used much the same one, once upon a time. It seemed that something had happened to Jack's home, he thought with a pang of sympathy. Delicately, he changed the subject, much to Jack's apparent relief.
They finished breakfast, and Daine collected their plates to clean them. Numair rose to help her as did Jack, following his lead, but Daine waved them off. "You cooked, and you're a guest," she told them flatly, placing the dirty plates near the wash bin. "Go tack Spots; we'll head into town as soon as I'm done; we can get Jack a horse on the way." She pulled out a rag.
Numair nodded and gestured to a surprised Jack, who followed him out of the kitchen. "You really don't need to get me a horse," Jack told him dryly. Numair grinned a little and went downstairs to hold the front door.
"Daine," he explained when Jack caught up, "has no love of bandits. There are a few of them living in the woods around the town. They know better than to bother us, as we are employed by the king and they have run into us before with…unpleasant consequences, but this does not stop them from occasionally harrying the town. We'll get one of their horses." He let the door swing closed, and then walked out to the small barn attached to the side of his tower.
Jack stared, striding across the grass to keep up. "This is something you've done before."
"All the time, actually," Numair smirked. "It's a service to the town, I think, don't you?"
Jack smiled that odd, reluctant smile of his again. "I think I like you, Numair Salmalin."
Together they walked into the shadow of the musty, dusty barn. Numair strode over to see his painted gelding, Spots, and Jack followed tentatively. The horse picked up his head, looked at Numair and sighed.
"Sorry, Spots," he told the gelding wryly. He turned to talk to Jack, and was surprised when he saw the other man off to the side, regarding the saddle rack. Jack raised an eyebrow and Numair gestured. "The one on the left," he said. Jack nodded and lifted it, walking over.
"Thanks," Numair muttered, opening the stall door. Spots regarded him with a look on his face that said quite clearly, must you?
"Sorry," the mage told him again, and slung the saddle over the horse's shoulder. Spots sighed again.
"Numair," Jack said very slowly, and Numair turned to look at him. He was leaning with his arm on the stall door and watching Numair warily. "I had—an odd sort of dream, last night."
The mage wrinkled his eyebrows, curious at Jack's reluctance. "Gainel has been known to send odd dreams," he replied evenly.
"The god of dreams, I presume," Jack muttered, almost to himself. Numair inclined his head. Spots considered Jack with one serious brown eye.
"There was a badger," Jack added cautiously after a pause, and Numair's eyes widened. Spots, recognizing the word 'badger,' wuffled in surprise. In the next stall over, Cloud lifted her head and pricked her ears forward.
"The badger god?" Numair asked, startled.
Jack nodded and looked relieved. "So I'm not losing my mind, then. Because where I'm from, talking to gods tends to mean insanity." He quirked his lips in a sarcastic half-smile.
Numair could not hide his curiosity. Why would the badger visit Jack? "The badger god is actually Daine's mentor," he explained slowly.
"Yes, he told me that," Jack muttered. "After he got off my chest."
Numair chuckled a little, leaning on Spots' side and giving Jack his full attention. "Daine says he tends to do that. What did he say?"
"He wanted to strike a bargain. I told him I'd think about it. Uh, Numair—" Jack lunged into the stall and caught Spots' saddle before it slipped off the horse's back.
"A bargain? That's not like him," Numair murmured, oblivious. "What sort of bargain?"
"I don't know," Jack said, taking the girth from where it rested on the seat of the saddle and then buckling it. "Just a bargain. I wanted to make sure I wasn't losing my mind," he added in a tone that tried for humorous.
"No, not that I know of." Numair replied easily, wanting to press Jack for more information, even though the man was clearly reluctant. He shooed the Jack away from his horse and buckled the girth himself. The mage tightened it, offered Spots a bit and led him out of the stall. "But still, the badger hasn't visited Daine for a while, and it's odd that he would see you, no offense meant, of course."
"Of course," Jack agreed. He stepped out of the way to allow the large gelding through. He looked at the bridle hanging from Cloud's stall door thoughtfully, and then picked it up to offer to the pony.
"I wouldn't—" Numair warned, as Cloud's ears flicked forward, and then went straight back. She snorted.
"Aw, c'mon," Jack coaxed the pony, who glared at him. "You know, there was once a weevil who would let me pat its head. That's not common with weevils. Good sort, old Janet."
Cloud flicked one ear forward and there other one back, regarding him with a sort of bemused scorn.
"What's a weevil?" Numair asked, halting Spots and looking at Jack curiously. "The only kind of weevil I've ever heard of are insects that eat crops."
"Hard to pat an insect," Jack said cheerfully. "You'd squash it."
Numair chuckled and then heard footsteps behind them. Turning around again, he saw Daine and his face lit. Spots nickered a greeting, which Daine returned by patting his nose. Numair smiled warmly at her. "Hello, love," he said. "Dishes done?"
"Yup." She grinned at him, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Cloud snorted, and Daine turned to regard Jack. "Are you trying to put a bridle on Cloud?" she asked, amused. "She'll bite you, you know." The pony huffed and Daine walked over to pluck the bit out of Jack's hand. "Don't give me that," she ordered Cloud. "Be nice." She offered the bit over the stall door, and Cloud took it delicately.
Jack shrugged at her. "Thought it would hurry things along. No saddle?"
Daine shook her head and opened the stall door. "I prefer bareback, when I can. Numair's got the saddlebags for the day." She led Cloud out of the stall and mounted. Numair quirked a crooked smile at her. Daine always made mounting from the ground look effortless. He sighed and clambered gracelessly onto Spots' back. Daine gave him a put-upon glance, and Numair replied with a great, silly grin that had her chuckling. Gods, but he did love her, even if his riding skills, or lack thereof, noticeably drove her mad.
He looked down to Jack, who was standing off to the side a little, watching the exchange with an odd, wistful smile.
"Right then," Numair said awkwardly. "Shall we?"
"Lead on!" Daine smiled, and Numair inclined his head, nudging Spots to walk. Jack followed them out of the high roofed barn and into the sunlight.
"So is what Numair says about stealing a horse true?" Jack asked them both as they headed towards the road.
Daine grinned down at him and Numair chuckled quietly. "Only if you don't mind riding a bandit's horse. It might have to be bareback, I'm afraid, unless you want me to go back and get a saddle."
"That's alright," Jack replied easily, although he sounded somewhat bemused. "Although it really has been ages since I was last on a horse."
"Daine'll make a horseman out of you, don't worry," Numair said wryly, looking down at the man, and grinned when Daine glared at him.
They walked on the road for a short while, silence broken only by the sound of the horseshoes on the cobblestone. Suddenly, Daine pulled Cloud to a stop. Jack glanced at Numair, who nodded at him and looked at Daine. "Any luck?" asked the mage.
"They're about half a mile off," Daine said quietly, voice dreamy, as if she were in half a trance. "Actually—" she frowned, and then scowled. "You'll have a saddle, Jack, but the reins might be broken." Numair sighed, recognizing Daine's angry tone. This horse was clearly treated badly.
"That's okay," Jack reiterated.
"And be nice to him," Daine added. "He's had a bit of a rough time of it, and he'll be tired after running. He says his name is—Red, I think."
"Okay," Jack repeated.
Daine nudged Cloud up to a walk, and they followed. "He'll meet us a little up the road. Come on, then."
They walked in silence for about a quarter of a mile. Numair regarded Jack from his perch up on Spots. The man had his jacket folded over his arm, and he was still wearing those odd clothes from the other day – dark trousers made from a material that Numair did not recognize, strange straps over his shoulders and back, a blue garment that was not a tunic beneath.
He was clearly not from around here, and he was hiding something, although Numair did not know what. He was hurting as well, that much was obvious, given the way he had evaded the question when Numair had asked about weevils, never mind the coat. The mage pondered idly as they rode, wondering at Jack's tense posture and set face. A dark past, he mused. It seemed everyone in Tortall had a dark past.