“Haven’t I given it up?” He piped up, reflecting on the idea more than really asking. “I’m not dodging death around every corner, or fearing for my friends in battle. I’m not a fighter and I never was. I just played one for a while. This life is more suited to me, and it’s still not right.” He furrowed his brow, the words fuzzy in his head. This life is what he would have liked for him and Kaylie all along, but that was still wishing for the past. She wouldn’t come here, would she?
“Maybe I’ll meet someone,” he suggested, spit-balling excuses to be happy. “Open a music school, learn how to sail. I won’t know what works until I try, right? Right.”
This time he did draw the gate stone closer to him, Kaylie fresh on his mind. If Vex or Percy gave this to his daughter… that thought hadn’t occurred to him before. Kaylie wanting to see him, even if it meant she would live out the rest of her days in Preya, was a hard thought to ignore. That was the life he craved now.
“I might… hold onto this a little longer,” he said, picking the gate stone up once more. “It was going to be a pain in the ass to dispel anyway.” He shot Gilmore a sheepish smile, then looked back at the wines he had been tasting.
“This one,” Scanlan gestured towards the bottle he had been favoring. “It’s too good for them, but I know you like to make an impression. Pick this one.”