GawaiN

Gawain crouched down to retrieve some of her fallen papers, suddenly conscious again of his shortened fingers. He hid them quickly again, tucking them under the lists so only his thumbs were visible. When he straightened up again, he slipped the little stack he’d on top of the pile she was holding, taking care not to send them flying again.

The hurt in her voice caught him as he stepped back, finally snapping his eyes to hers. Now she was the one not looking at him.

“This,” Altair’s voice cut-in at the back of his mind, “is exactly why I should never let you out unsupervised.”

Irritated, Gawain smothered the connection, but not quickly enough to avoid his familiar smug laughter. He wasn’t entirely wrong though was he? Since he’d come back to Shaman he’d seemed to lurch from putting his foot in it, to putting his foot in his mouth.

“Oh God, no,” he said hurriedly, reaching out before he could stop himself to cup her elbow. “Absolutely not, I just...”

He hesitated, withdrawing his hand, conscious suddenly that she might not want it there. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to meet her eye again and managed a sheepish smile.

“I was trying to make things easier for you...for me...I’m not sure which. I’m...” He broke off, hesitating, “I’m not very good at this. Did you notice?”

Gawain glanced over his shoulder and along the corridor, then back to Alethea.

“Do you like tea?” he asked her, “I’ve got some time now, if you do. We could talk?”