Taff blushed a little and quickly glanced back down at the menu. The press of his brothers teeth against his knuckle sent a shive through him. That sort of shiver.
"You know if you bleed too much and shrivel up I'll just laugh at you right? Cause its your own fault," Taff tried, joking to cover his worry that Tristan was more hurt than he let on. But Taff could see no marks or wounds or other blood stains except the blotch on his brother's shirt. He calmed himself down a little and order himself and his brother some food as the waitress wandered past.
"And, er, a butterbeer float please? What you drinking Trist?" He looked at his brother, his eyes tracing every inch of his brother's face. It'd be almost a month till he'd see him again. No wait! The Ball!