Thirty-nine – 01

“Well,” J.T. said in an exceedingly dry tone as he came to the fire, “things are looking up.”

“Huh?” Davon asked, looking up from the mess of parts in his lap that he’d been tinkering with—pieces of a clock, if J.T. had to guess. “What’re you talking about?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Phelan?” Neve asked, setting aside the blanket she’d been mending, a look of alarm flitting across her expression. “Is he okay?”

“He remembered Jac,” J.T. said as he poured himself a mug of coffee from the pot that sat on the stones around the fire. “Things are looking up.”

“He did?” Neve leaned forward. “How? Did Seamus find Eriú?”

“Don’t know. Phelan just asked me to get her all of a sudden. He had a look that I’ve seen before.”

“On him?” Neve asked, sounding surprised.

J.T. shook his head. “On Thom and Cameron. Occasionally even on Thordin’s too, surprisingly enough. Do we know if he and Sif are…?”

“That’s even more complicated than Seamus’s love life,” Neve said, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I don’t ask. If he wants to talk about it, he’ll bring it up. At least that’s how I look at it.” She closed her eyes with a sigh. “Did Phelan say anything else?”

“Not really,” J.T. said, relaxing as he took a sip from his mug. “Just asked me to get Jac, which I did.”

Davon stared at J.T. for a long, silent moment. “Are you sure that leaving them alone together was a good idea? I mean, he’s got amnesia. He may not be entirely himself, right?”

“He’s himself enough,” J.T. said, frowning. “Why are you asking?”

Davon frowned and shook his head, looking back to the clock pieces in his lap. “Just asking,” he said quietly.

J.T. stared at him, brows knitting.

Why the hell do questions like that give me a bad feeling that I didn’t have before?

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