That stirs something in Wrathion, some tightening in his stomach. In his chest. More people in his life have been disappointed in him than proud. He blinks, hesitates, then inclines his head a fraction.
"... Thank you."
For what she has said. For keeping his secret. For the quiet understanding and patience in her presence. His eyes flit away to the dough where it rests, to his basket of fish.
"Is there some way I can be of assistance?"
He looks up again, and the steady curiosity of his gaze says this is an open question. For cooking, or for anything else, he is always at her disposal.
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That stirs something in Wrathion, some tightening in his stomach. In his chest. More people in his life have been disappointed in him than proud. He blinks, hesitates, then inclines his head a fraction.
"... Thank you."
For what she has said. For keeping his secret. For the quiet understanding and patience in her presence. His eyes flit away to the dough where it rests, to his basket of fish.
"Is there some way I can be of assistance?"
He looks up again, and the steady curiosity of his gaze says this is an open question. For cooking, or for anything else, he is always at her disposal.