Dagan accepted this with equanimity, but Hendrik turned slightly broody for the rest of the afternoon. Their last stop at the market was the baker, since Dagan wanted to introduce Hendrik to the pillowy varieties of flatbread the forest had to offer. She was a pretty woman, about their age and delightfully gregarious.
“You’ll want some onion flatbread, then,” she told them. “It’s made with acorn flour so it’s just slightly sweet. Like you, I’m sure.”
“Oh, more than slightly,” Dagan assured her. “Do you have any from grain yet, or is it too soon?”
“The last of the rye bread is in.” She seemed delighted he asked. “And there’s some honeyed butter that brings out its flavor beautifully.”
“You’re speaking my language, darling.” Dagan leaned toward her.
She chuckled and waved him off. “Oooh, you are a sweet one. No need to butter me up, handsome; scouts are always welcome here. No trade necessary.”
“Beauty and kindness. Hendrik, do you see this woman? She might be perfect.”
Everyone seemed delighted by this little flirtation, except for possibly Hendrik, who seemed more bemused than usual by it. As they walked away, toward the modest brewery, where they’d engaged a smaller and cozier room than the one from the Apricot Grove winery, Hendrik asked, “Do you ever turn it off?”
Unthinking, Dagan swallowed his last mouthful of delicious rye-and-honey-butter before asking, “What?”
“The charm?”
Dagan frowned. He’d been impressed by it last week. What was so different today? “Who says I turn it on? I’m just naturally charming. What about your handsome friend, the professional flirt? Wasn’t he always on?”
Hendrik snorted. “Jak was getting paid to be on. I’m not even sure I really knew him. The real him.”
This observation took Dagan entirely off guard in how it cut him to the quick, sharp and hot. It was all the more remarkable because he wasn’t sure Hendrik had meant it to—he might have really been talking about his Jak, for all Dagan knew. “Fair enough,” he admitted. “I suppose if I was getting paid it would be less fun to flirt when off-duty.”
“So, you flirt for fun?”
“Have you ever tried it?” Dagan asked, deciding he had rather not answer the question. “You might like it.”
“I can flirt,” Hendrik protested.
Dagan stopped walking and looked him up and down. “Hmm, I’d have to see it to believe it.”
Hendrik flushed bright red to the ears and started walking faster.
Dagan caught up easily. He knew he should back off, but some perverse part of him wouldn’t let him stop. He wanted to see Hendrik react. “Oh, come on, darling boy. If you don’t hone your skills they grow dull and useless, and then it’s a waste.”
Hendrik glanced at him sideways. “No fear of that with you, then.”
Dagan wasn’t sure if he was irritated or hurt, since neither reaction was at all called-for. He just kept his tone light and flirtatious, since that was what Hendrik thought of him. “I sense some judgment in your tone, dearest.”
“No, you don’t.” Hendrik’s jaw flexed.
Dagan laughed. “You’re positively pouty, now. Look at you!”
Hendrik sped up again, this time, using his long legs to far outstrip Dagan.
“Damnation,” Dagan swore under his breath, entirely at himself. Regret clenched cold fingers around his stomach. He rushed forward, catching up with Hendrik just outside the brewery. He reached out to touch his sleeve, and Hendrik stopped, suddenly very still.
“Hendrik, I’m sorry,” Dagan said at once. “It was too far. I want to say I can’t help myself but of course I can, and I just don’t sometimes, and it’s very silly of me.”
Hendrik slumped slightly, shaking his head and raking a hand through his unruly hair. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just…” He wandered forward a few steps before throwing himself onto a bench outside the doorway. “I feel like I’m learning to be human again, but all the rules have changed while I was gone.”
Once again, his astuteness took Dagan by surprise, though it shouldn’t have at this point. “That’s a very accurate summary of what’s happening to you, actually. I should be more understanding.” Dagan sat beside him, at a respectful distance. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I’ll behave.”
“No,” Hendrik said immediately. Then he looked up and smiled slightly. “I don’t think you’re always a charming flirt…but I’m sure you’re not the type to behave, either.”
Dagan smiled back. Accurate, for someone who’s only known me a few weeks. He might not have known his Jak, but he had at least one finger on Dagan’s pulse. “Then why did you ask me if I ever turn it off?”
Hendrik shook his head. “I just wanted to get a rise out of you. I’m sorry. It was childish.”
The admission caught him less off-guard than it might’ve a few moments ago. It was big of Hendrik to admit. And seeing as Dagan had also been trying to get a rise out of him, it was only fair. He gave a little chuckle. “So, really, you started it.”
Hendrik laughed, a low, barely-audible sound.
“That’s better,” Dagan decided, slapping his thighs and standing. “We’ve kissed and made up now. You forgive me?”
“For what?”
Dagan almost explained, but then he caught the little glint in Hendrik’s eye and realized what he meant. Instead, Dagan said, “Oh, that’s much better.”
*
The next morning, as Dagan arranged the supplies they’d acquired—including a large quantity of dried mushrooms of varying rarities and deliciousness, as was the specialty of the conservancy—Hendrik went through some movements he called “drills” with his new knife. They were hesitant at first, but his footwork was impeccable, even though Dagan didn’t recognize the forms. His thrusting and parrying movements would’ve been better suited to a weapon with more reach; Dagan would have to show him how to protect himself with a knife, while they were on the road. But yes, he had the look of a well-trained fighter as he gained confidence in his movements.
Then, Hendrick stopped suddenly and said, “Dagan?”
Without even turning, Dagan asked, “Yes, lovely?”
