Now he can't bring up the ink. Not one bit. Instead he nods once, affirming the notion of his giving her a favour, though it would normally be the reverse. Instead, he folds one hand over hers where she's taken the cloth and with a tiny smile insists, "Keep it. It's yours." He'd give her both the moons if she asked for them.

For a long moment, he catches her beautiful brown eyes and can't, won't, look away. Just doesn't want to. The man would be content to stay here the rest of his days with just this little indulgence.

Ah but she had said she wanted to see him. It's a thought that fills him with far more joy than he thought possible, or shows. Still he stores that away for pondering at length later. "You said you wished to see me?"