"Ashes Reborn, Trauma Reformed" Nimona

"Please? For me?"

"Something tells me you're still not fine." Bal said pointedly.

"I never said that!" She growled, burying her face in the pillow.

Bal placed his hand in her pink hair, rubbing his metalic thumb against her head comfortingly. "You didn't have to." Nimona leant into his touch, refusing to admit allowed that physical contact was more soothing than she'd ever realised. "

"I don't want to go out today." She yawned, her voice barely comprehensive enough for him to hear properly.

"That's okay." He removed his hand as he made his way round the furniture, joining his friend and sidekick with an open arm. "You're not ready, and I won't force you to go out until you are." His smile was genuine, and his arm stayed up longer than most people would, offering her the comfort of a hug if she so wanted it. "Still not sleeping well?" He questioned, genuine concern leaking through his words.

Nimona shook her head, shuffling over and laying against the man beside her. Nimona shook her head, a hum of confirmation the only audible response she was willing to provide. She wasn't ready to talk about it yet. She barely had the energy to stay awake, let alone go into details about the pain she relived nightly to a grown man she had just saved from himself and his lack of cooking skills.

"I'll be here if you need me." Bal informed, resting his chin atop her pink hair. He meant it. A gentle hum was the last thing he heard before soft snores took its place. Bal reached over slowly, pulling the blanket back over his shapeshifting friend. "I'm not going anywhere."

-----

"You're late." Ambrosius commented, his fingers linked together atop the pub table and his elbows propping him up as he watched his boyfriend enter the building.

"Yeah," Ballister gave a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry." His face was flushed from his travels, and sweat littered his forehead. "I got distracted." He admitted, taking a seat across from the blonde.

"Another project?" Ambrosius' question was pointless as he knew the answer already, but hoped his fake attempt at a guess was correct despite it all.

"No, it's Nimona." Ballister stated, his concern dripping from his tongue. "She's not been sleeping well again, and -" He stopped, noticing the tension in his boyfriends shoulders at the mention of his shapeshifting friend. "Ambrosius?" Ballister reached across the table to take his hand but was met with rejection as Ambrosius pulled away.

Maybe it was a good thing Nimona stayed home...

"Nachos for you, Sir Goldenloin." The waiters chipper voice sliced the hesitant silence like a freshly sharpened sword as he placed down the ceramic bowl of tortilla chips under melted cheese and numerous other toppings.

"Thank you, Trent." He smiled politely at the staff member.

With a swift nod, Trent turned to Ballister, a sickeningly sweet grin plastered effortlessly across his face. "Anything for you, Sir Boldheart?"

Ballister hesitated a moment before ordering a beer and watching the waiter turn to fulfil his order.

Ambrosius looked over, cocking his brow at the now quiet man. "Not hungry?"

Ballister shook his head before resting his chin on his palm. "Not particularly." He admitted. A heavy sigh escaped his boyfriend, only further adding to his hesitance.

"What did she feed you?"

"I haven't eaten anything, I'm just..." Ballisters' words trailed off, unsure of how to explain his feelings and concerns without eliciting a negative response from the man before him.