[ It's horrible. Ire and fury slip away word by word until even his scowl is gone, replaced with a frown. It was only a month but it was the best of his to date at the time, he didn't anticipate how it would feel to have real friends that he could trust to sleep in the same room at night or play with mid-battle because there was the certainty they would also keep each other safe. There was so much comfort packed into those nights spent on the road and in taverns, it was all a blur of excitement and magic. ]

I don't know what to say to you when you're like this, but don't you dare talk to anyone else this way. We actually do care about you.

[ He remembers all the times he went to bed on the floor (in water, once) because he was so terrified of not living up to the Tough Guy front he had going on and giving into something under his skin whenever Molly would bed down for the night, jewellery carefully placed aside and bared tattoos on view. Fjord remembers wanting, and how scary that feeling had been, manifesting in other ways as he harassed Molly for attention mid-battle and enjoying riling him up.

Fjord steps into the tiefling's space with a solemn expression, looking him over. His voice softens, wounded and quiet. ]

I never wanted us to be strangers. I still don't.