He tensed, startled out of his hollow despair at the warm touch that curled around his bicep. It was foreign and he tore his eyes away from the fire to watch dumbly as a slender hand materalized against the worn denim of his shirt, followed by a delicate wrist that disappeared into a swatch of velvet. The only thought that struck him at first was how pale it looked, like smooth ivory, in the night's dark and mirrored firelight.

She spoke softly to him in the dim, the timbre of her voice registering with him on an elemental level, one that brought him to the surface of his trace and had him blinking as her face slid around him into view. He recognized her, he knew her. He did not respond to her gentle words however, lest his tongue rebel against him and loose the string of harsh insults that came as instinct these days, his mind trying to protect his heart from ever being wounded again. For a moment, he shrugged the blanket tighter over his broad shoulders, aware suddenly of the damp chill lingering in the air. He hadn't noticed it before.

It was her doing, making him feel things, notice things he was better off not noticing. Like the way the strands of her hair flamed auburn in the muted firelight. The way he could smell the lavender on her skin even through the overpowering scent of wood smoke. He knew too much when she was near, felt too much. It made it uncomfortable. It made him feel...tempered. Like a wild beast calmed to a strained peace by unseen music. She was both tamer and trainer, somehow breaking in the turbulent primitive part of him that had grown hard and angry with no more then her quiet presence. It was this part of him that faught tooth and nail to recoil from her feather-light touch. It wanted so much to break free from the shaky rein he was keeping it on. And when she offered her well intended advice, he could not stop it from erupting and spewing it's poison from his lips.

"Save your pity and your kindness," he hissed at her, turning at the drop of hat into his usual course and disagreeable self. He flung the blanket from his shoulders in a petulent manner, face slipping easily back into a fixed expression of severe stoniness. His body screamed to either push her away or take her up in his arms and keep her there. Pride would allow him to do neither. So he stood rigid, back going ramrod straight as he tried to convey his displeasure at being fussed over. For the first time since her arrival however, he shifted ever so slightly to meet her eye when he next spoke some time later. "It's wasted on me, lady." Though his tone was as sharp as ever, the deep brown of his eyes held a shadow of apology - a plea for understanding.

"Why do you come to me, Nimueh? Why do you continue trying to help me?" When you know I can never do the same for you?