"You just really reminded me of him for a second."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"Not your fault."

"Mm." Hug. "I - it's important to me that you know the difference between when I'm doing something as a favour to you and when I'm doing something for my own reasons. But I still probably could've phrased it better."

She snuggles closer, tucking her head under his chin. "You didn't know about that association. Just--in general, implying that you had been going to do something I preferred, or not do something I didn't prefer, but because I did something with no idea that was on the table it's not the case anymore--you didn't know. But yeah, adding the word 'already' would have helped."

He sighs and holds her in his arms and rests his cheek on top of her head. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"I'll be okay."

"Yeah."

Snuggle. "Well, that wasn't the most fun interval ever. What were we talking about before we careened into a mutual emotional rough patch?"

"I dunno. Immortality?"

"Oh yeah. So you're going to need me there to cast the spell, I'm guessing."

"Well, after I've tested it against everything else."

"Well, yeah.

Wanna go back to my room and investigate the toys?"

"Sure."

"You're gonna have to take us there," she reminds him. "Cute as you are when you're turned on it's really not worth falling down all those stairs for."

He giggles.

Whoosh, now they're in her room. With her still cuddled up in his arms. He sets her on her feet on the floor.

She giggles and kisses him on the cheek again and goes to retrieve a canvas bag from a shelf.

He grins at her.

She starts rummaging through the bag. "No...no...no...ugh, I know there's a reason I don't keep this stuff in my Haversack, but--aha!" She withdraws a pair of beautiful daggers, clearly a matching pair, adornments identical save that one is in warm colors and one in cold colors. "Nice. Dagger of fire and dagger of frost."

"Ooh, they're pretty."

"People do that!" She unsheathes the cold-colors dagger. It looks--like an ordinary dagger, if a very well-made one. And then it frosts over, the air around the blade fogging.

He reaches over and runs his fingertips along the blade.

The blade is sharp, and incredibly cold. His fingers come away lightly sliced and frostbitten.

He laughs. "I like it."

She turns the cold off and resheathes it. "I'm glad." She unsheathes the other one, and it bursts into flame.