"And I thought that, of all people, you would know that nothing is without meaning." He said it so casually, but there was a sadness in the set of his lips, in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, that betrayed any lightness he might have forced into his tone. Those grey eyes sought her out again, and this time Nathan didn't drop the gaze, even if Enfys wasn't returning it.
"The lack of wonder in you is what's holding you back," he said, as if answering the question he had no idea was in Enfys' head, as if the Lady was, again, seeing through everything Merlin chose to throw up to hide behind, like it was nothing more than smoke in a windstorm. "When did you get so cold, Emrys? When did you lose sight of all the possibilities of what might be?" If he had still been the Lady, if it had still been Nimue's form, a hand might have been reached out then, beseeching and small. Instead Nathan just shook his head and sighed, weary, as if Merlin were just another one of his charges, of the things he needed to set right again. "Everything has meaning, Enfys, if only what we ascribe to it. And that meaning has power. More power than you or I or any of the forces under heaven. Ignore that at your own peril."
A slight smirk worked up one corner of his mouth and Nathan agreed, "I could, yes." Then he was standing, throwing a few bills onto the table to cover Enfys' coffee and sweets. "You also could ask," he pointed out quietly. Then he was turning and walking away, back to his shop, back to try and salvage even a small bit of who he'd been before, to force his body to do as he willed it even though it hurt. His fingers were cracked and sore and bleeding just from the effort and clumsy mishaps involved in making Enfys' small gift. But he wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop.
Maybe, if he tried harder, it'd be enough, the paltry offering he could muster. It was all he could do, now. Try. All he had left to give.