"Good. That's nice." He smiled back. The fact that Gerard had someone was comforting. How Dallon wished he had the same sort of thing.
Dallon tapped a finger against his knee and didn't press the subject. If Gerard didn't want to elaborate on the exact nature of his injury that was fine. He couldn't help being curious, however. The most common magical injury during the war, to Dallon's knowledge, had been memory modification or obliteration, but that didn't seem to fit. He sighed; it wasn't his business, anyway. Everyone kept secrets.
"Hey," he said suddenly, changing the subject. The sketches were still lying about their feet in a haphazard pile and Dallon bent down to prod at them with his paintbrush, selecting a bunch before scooping them up. He'd sort of wanted feedback on these. "Look at these for me, will you? They're mainly of the castle and, er, its inhabitants. Probably some of, um--" Dallon stomped on any embarrassment before it could surface. "--You. I draw what I see, you know, who I meet."