Daine was grinning at him by the time Sarge's laughter faded down the hallway.

"Yes?" He asked, pretending that their mutual friend had not just thrown him under the carriage for his own amusement.

"Your answer, master mage?"

"To which question, again?" He shifted, extending one leg in front of him.

"Lady Sandrise?"

"I doubt you'd find it interesting."

"I beg to differ."

"It's not very interesting."

"Sarge seems to think so."

"Sarge is a menace." He wasn't sure he'd realized just how true that was until he'd become a target as opposed to a spectator. He raised his cup to her, tapping the rim, and made a show of taking a deep drink.

"No fun." She glared, leaning back to rest on one hand. "My next question—"

"Wait," he waved his hand at her, "you just had a turn."

"No, Sarge had a turn. I hadn't asked mine."

"That's a stretch."

"But not untrue."

"Fine," he motioned for her to continue with a sigh.

"Right. As I had started to ask before we were so enjoyably interrupted, what's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you during sex?"

"Ah," what started as surprise morphed quickly into a laugh. "I definitely won't be sharing that."

She raised an eyebrow, jutting her chin towards his drink. "You know the rules," she urged when he made to move to drink.

"Yes, I do, but you see," he was obviously pleased with himself, "your question is actually the same as Sarge's, and I have already toasted to that particular trauma."

"Wait, it wasn't—" She shook her head before sitting up straight again and he could practically see the moment her mind connected the relationship between both questions. "So what happened with Lady..." She trailed off, grinning.

"You can be as curious as you want, Daine, but I have already passed and now it's my turn."

"Numair." She leaned forward, too gleeful for her expression to match the urging in her voice.

"Daine?"

"You can't leave me on a cliffhanger like that."

"I can and I will."

"You told Sarge."

"I most certainly did not. Sarge overheard a private conversation. A private argument, actually." He grumbled, wincing at the memory.

"Oh, no." She cringed visibly, and it was not without sympathy. "Hopefully he was the only one."

"That would have been lovely, but alas," he sighed, shaking his head. "Enough! You're pushing off the inevitable: it's my turn." He studied her, running through the list of things he had wondered about her but not had the opportunity or bravery to ask her before.

"Let me guess: my favorite month, or if I prefer blueberries or peaches."

"October and strawberries; a little credit, please. I'm just thinking of a good one." He shook his head and laughed when she motioned towards the deck of cards. "Preferably something a little less scandalous than awaits me there."

"That's—"

"Not really the point." He said in unison with her and she rolled her eyes in response. "Alright," he snapped his fingers and hoped his nerves weren't apparent, "as I believe you're aware, when we are within range of one another I am often able to sense where you are by your magical signature." He paused, looking for her confirmation.

"Yes, just like you can those with the gift."

"Yes, although yours is unique, as you are also aware."

"Yes?" She shook her head in question when he didn't continue.

"I'm trying to figure out how to say this without sounding—" he paused again and she sighed.

"Sounding what?"

"Well, creepy."

She laughed, throwing her head back, and a single curl pulled free of its fastening. "Numair, I'm fair aware of the fact that you can find me easily enough when you've a mind to. That's no surprise."

"Right, well, sometimes I've noticed," he searched for the words, ignoring her impatient muttering, "well, I've sensed that you go up into the hills very late at night—sometimes very early in the morning—and will stay until dawn, at least."

"Oh." She did seem surprised at that.

"Your energy seems," his head swayed, not entirely sure how to express what he sensed in her at those times. He wasn't an empath by any stretch of the imagination, but over the years he'd learned to read her magical signature in a way that sometimes gave him insight to whether she was well or not. "Different. Off, somehow."

"And, your question?" She asked, warily.

"I suppose I've wondered why you go. If you're okay when you do."

"Ah, yes, I'm fine. It's nothing to worry about." There was a ghost of a blush spreading from her collar.

"And...?" He probed, looking for a complete answer and she blushed more deeply. Daine lifted her cup to her lips, tipping it before seeming to think better of it and lowering it again.

"Well, sometimes—most times, since I'm supposed to be honest—after I've been with a man I'll take a flight," her blush deepened, "afterward."

"Oh." It was his turn to blush.

She shrugged, "It's fair freeing to end such a night in the fresh air, under the stars."

"Alone?"

She laughed, "I know. I was hoping you might not catch on to that."

"You don't have to—"

"It's alright," she waved him off, "you already know the secret so there's little harm in filling in the details. I suppose that I'm often interested in someone for the, well, fun but not so interested in everything that comes with the next morning. If there's honest affection there, sure, but more often it's nice to just skip the part where you're both being polite but ready to part ways."

He studied her, brows knitted as he processed several pieces of information at once. When he didn't speak, she filled the silence. "You look concerned; why?" She laughed when raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, that can be my question for you but beware next round."

He leaned forward, raising his outstretched leg so he could drape his arm over his knee, to get a better look at her. "I suppose it makes me sad."

"Why? I quite enjoy myself." She grinned and he couldn't help but laugh, surprised to discover he could find humor in this particular topic.

"That's good, but I'd have liked to hear that you had met someone you could enjoy yourself with physically and emotionally."

"Perhaps someday." She took a drink out of turn, swirling the liquid in her cup as she lowered it.

"Of course, if you are happy—" he meant to back away from this particular conversation but changed his mind when he considered just how unlikely it would be to have this opportunity again. "It's just that, when I've sensed you—how your energy feels different—it feels a little like sadness."

"I suppose it's not always uncomplicated." She supplied, falling short of what he wanted to know.

"Is there someone who has been unkind, or who doesn't return the affection you hope for?" He found it hard to wrap his mind around the concept of a man lucky enough to be with her without appreciating such a boon.

She paused as if she were choosing her words carefully. "I haven't been slighted by a lover; not in any way that's left lasting hurt, anyway."

"I'd just like to know that you're treated well. That anyone you," he slowed to temper his phrasing despite his liquor-loosened tongue, "choose to be with has the right intentions."

She laughed outright then, breaking the tension. "And what would you consider the right intentions? Do you have the right intentions when you take up with your lovers?"

He balked, forgetting that he had an escape at hand from her inquiry. "I'd like to think that my relationships are very well understood by both parties. I would never want someone to feel tricked after choosing to," he blushed, "spend time with me."

"Firstly, I hope you know that I've never thought you'd trick a woman into your bed. I'm sorry if I offended you—" he waved off her apology but looked relieved "—but if you can be content with casual sex, why do you think I couldn't be?"

"I just want you to have better," he sighed deeply, knowing it was the most honest thing he'd said all night.

"Better than what?"

"Than men like me."

Concern furrowed her brows and she reached out to squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Numair, that's fair impossible."