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The Embarrassed Mage in the Night
"Come, up you get."
Extending a pale hand, he helped her up, his heavy limp excruciatingly prominent as he led her down the hallway. She was still sniffling as he muttered under his breath: something about being a dunderhead, silencing spells, zapping hexes, and chiming wards. None of it made sense to Elaine in her frazzled state.
He had her sit on the bed while he looked at her hands. They still tingled.
"Thank you—" he sighed, "for waking me."
As compliant as a tired child, she let him pull the comforter up to her shoulders and wish her goodnight.
Writer's Choice: Pale, #96