Nate !
“Rory? Rory with the ponies?” Nathaniel sounds more surprised than he is, once he thinks about it. Rory, soft and quiet, doing something reckless and probably altruistic… It fits what little he knows of the man. Annoys him, too, and that shines through clearly in his tone. Stupid is synonymous with brave during Longnight. And usually with dead.
At least Rory isn’t.
It still stings when he thinks about missing the Spark Bird, but it stings less thinking about the chaos. Nathaniel can only shake his head as he disappears inside.
Rexanna is, of course, right where he left her when he returns. A pang of — what? Nerves? — something unpleasant hits him square in the gut when he sees her still just standing there. Smiling. Like some kind of spring cleaning fairy. Then she opens her mouth and it’s like she read his mind and he’s embarrassed all over again.
He throws the rugs across the porch railing, avoiding the side rendered weak by wind or snow or something else. “There’s nothing valuable,” he says, in a tone one part what–do–I–care and one part annoyed. He doesn’t make eye contact, though. Her offer, at least, is fair enough. “If you really want to help…”
Nate ducks his head inside again briefly and emerges a few second later with a broom. He tosses it toward her. “Go ahead and use that.” This whole giving orders thing makes him feel a little like a stranger in his own home. Following orders, he can do that, but giving them? To random Outlanders? Nathaniel busies himself with the inside of the house, glancing out occasionally to check on her.
The work is routine, and goes more quickly with two hands. Eventually, the inside is clean enough, and the saddest of the indoor plants sit out on the porch, enjoying the sun's return. Nathaniel looks over at Rexana, his hands on his hips. "Not bad," he says. Which, in hindsight, is an incredibly lame thing to say, but he can't take it back.
At least Rory isn’t.
It still stings when he thinks about missing the Spark Bird, but it stings less thinking about the chaos. Nathaniel can only shake his head as he disappears inside.
Rexanna is, of course, right where he left her when he returns. A pang of — what? Nerves? — something unpleasant hits him square in the gut when he sees her still just standing there. Smiling. Like some kind of spring cleaning fairy. Then she opens her mouth and it’s like she read his mind and he’s embarrassed all over again.
He throws the rugs across the porch railing, avoiding the side rendered weak by wind or snow or something else. “There’s nothing valuable,” he says, in a tone one part what–do–I–care and one part annoyed. He doesn’t make eye contact, though. Her offer, at least, is fair enough. “If you really want to help…”
Nate ducks his head inside again briefly and emerges a few second later with a broom. He tosses it toward her. “Go ahead and use that.” This whole giving orders thing makes him feel a little like a stranger in his own home. Following orders, he can do that, but giving them? To random Outlanders? Nathaniel busies himself with the inside of the house, glancing out occasionally to check on her.
The work is routine, and goes more quickly with two hands. Eventually, the inside is clean enough, and the saddest of the indoor plants sit out on the porch, enjoying the sun's return. Nathaniel looks over at Rexana, his hands on his hips. "Not bad," he says. Which, in hindsight, is an incredibly lame thing to say, but he can't take it back.
