Night had fallen like a blanket over The Order and Nadia had lit all the lamps to keep it from engulfing the house. She could see her handiwork still sparkling as the fires were lit for the evening hours. Garin was just opening the door to enter the house and looked absolutely exhausted.
“Evening!” Nadia called perkily from the kitchen. “I promise I’m not cooking, but... I’d like to.”
“Mm.” Garin grunted, slightly covered in blood as usual. “I’ll just have a sandwich, that’s something you can’t ruin... right?”
Nadia let out a gasp, “How unappreciative of you! I’ve been working around this house all day, and this is how you thank me?” She asked and then suddenly smirked as she remembered her musings from earlier that day. Nadia leaned over the table and wiggled with anticipation.
“What do you want?” Garin asked.
“I was wondering if perhaps I could talk to you about the sewing again...?”
“No. Again, no.”
Nadia cleared her throat, “Let me finish... you know that beautiful cloak of yours? It certainly has seen better days hasn’t it?” She gave a light tug on his cloak, which he’d forgotten to remove before sitting down.
“What? I guess...” Garin glanced back to where she was showing him a tear at the hem.
“Ah!” He groaned, “When did this happen?”
“Don’t you know that over time all fabrics tear?” She asked, smirking slightly. “You know... I could fix it for you.” She listened to him grumble, and released her hold of the fabric so she could watch him stare at it. Her smile faded a slight when she noticed how heartbroken he seemed over the cloak. She cleared her throat a little. “I could even make you a new one…”
“I don’t want a new cloak!” Garin snapped, causing her reel backwards, and he sighed heavily. “Fine.” He stood up with a grunt and walked to his room, then a few minutes later, he returned with a scrap of paper, and a pen with a bit of ink. “Write down the things you need to fix my cloak with. If it is acceptable… I will take you tomorrow afternoon to pick out other things.”
“Really?!” Nadia grinned widely and dipped the pen in the inkwell before writing down her list. Once finished, she blew the parchment dry, then held it out to Garin with a smile. She hadn’t gotten much of a look at him that day until that moment, and she frowned. “You’re really pale.”
“I don’t often work during the day.” He grumbled, but she shook her head, knowing the difference between sickly pale, and a pale complexion.
“That’s not the reason though… you look tired, and sick.”
Garin snatched the scrap of parchment from her fingers in frustration. She had almost forgotten how he hated her prying. “It is nothing of your concern.” He turned, and she watched as he approached the door.
