If she'd been drinking at the time, the black and red haired witch might have sputtered. Pushing back the covers, she sat up, a curious expression on her face. Taking a moment to think of something to say that wouldn't scare the passive, she nodded a little.

"Oes, I see what you mean. Well, I mean, I think that....what with the way the Rose is practically screamin' for a place like this...I could be free'd up...quite...quickly." Her voice was a lot calmer than her head, in which she was screaming happily and bouncing around the room, telling Tristaan to sell the whole place. Clock the bloody burlesque house! Clearing her throat, she glanced down at her hands, fidging with her nails.

"So...why now? Don't take this the wrong way hama, but ye seemed so...unsure in Surwood. Talkin' about waiting a while. Seemed like ye were talking months...or more." A smile crept onto her lips and she glanced at him, some of her excitement unable to be contained.

"Not that I'm complaining The idea of bochi and...things...its why I left home in the first place. To find a nice kov, settle down somewhere, live the tsat life." Reaching forward, she rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I found the nice kov, thats for sure."

"I-I didn't mean now, as in right now ... jus' sooner than later." Tristaan stuttered, rather quickly, wanting very much to hide under the covers and not come out for a long time, "An' even on Surwood, I never meant ... years from now, neither. I just—"

The passive inhaled, sucking up not only air but a good bit of the insecure fear that often clouded him like so much fog on an autumn morning. Exhaling, he looked down at her hand on his shoulder as she spoke, a little warmed by her burst of excitement, comforted even, "Sometimes, I ent anymore unsure than ever, but if Surwood reminded me of anythin', it's that all I'm ever gonna do by runnin' is waste th'time I got. I ent always comfortable with what I am, but I can't let that get in th'way of what I want ..."

He paused again, grey eyes traveling over the olive skin of the witch's arm as he moved to meet her gaze, "Especially if I know what it is. I can, in most ways, be myself here of all places, an' I know for sure I can be myself 'round you an' you put up with me most times while I'm at it."

Listening to him speak, the witch could sense the back peddling in his tone, again. She didn't get upset or confused, it was part of who he was. Still struggling to be just like everyone else, against the odds those galdori oppressors put against him. Squeezing his shoulder as he took a breath, the woman wished there was a way to just...make it all better.



Smiling, the dancer wondered if Guaril had been part of that reminding. The old man was smart, and he cared for Tristaan like a son. It would make sense that he wanted the passive to be happy.



Giving him a soft, but stern look, the dancer smiled again.

"Ent nothin' to put up with kov. Ye are the least complaining person i know. As for here, this place..." Gaining a seriousness to her features, smile still slightly present, she looked into his eyes, holding them.

"This is your place. Your home. The rules here, they are made by you. If ye can be yourself anywhere, its most definitely here." Shaking his shoulder slightly, her brow furrowed.

"Ye chen? Your place kov. Your money. It ent just in my name, its ours." Smiling, she tilted her head.

"I just got my name on the front for...looks."

"Ours, huh?"

Tristaan smiled gently, perhaps even a little distance in his grey eyes even as he met Sarinah's chocolate brown ones. Home had become much less of a place over the years, and it was only a slight surprise to begin to consider it something found in a person instead.

"It's fine, hama, I'm sure most folks'd find your name more appealin' than mine for more'n'one reason." He chuckled though his expression was still serious, not quite as awkward as usual, "I ent concerned 'bout th'money or th'place. I don't really want those things as much as I've come to want you."

Sarinah glanced away from the man with a little laugh, slapping his shoulder gently before bringing her hand to her face, index finger wiping away the saltiness that had sprung to her eyes.

"You stop that now Tristaan Greymoor, or your gonna make a mess of me." Laughing again, she sniffed and looked back at him.

"I've said it before, but I don't care. Your too good to me. Sometimes, I think that this is all a dream, and I'm going to wake up drunk at a tavern somewhere." Shifting, she leaned over and kissed him, long and lingering, smiling as she pulled back.

"That is probably the only thing that tells me this is real. Ent no dream can kiss like that."