Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.
"The wounds are not very deep," he assured her. "If you want to fuss more, you may in the kitchen, but not on the balcony." His breath steamed on the glass before she pulled it aside, and he followed her out onto the balcony, so close on her heels that his cold nose bumped her ankle before they were entirely outside. He stood still, looking as she looked, and of course there was no expression on his face, but his eyes seemed tired.
"There is a witch that does not like me," he told her, a little reluctantly. "I have enemies like any man might." He opened his mouth a little, tongue to one side, in what might have been a smirk. "Do you like my garden?" He had been right about the mess and the silent, dead tangle of it.