Vella wound a fresh bandage around his scalded forearm in the cellar passage, her fingers quick and gentle. The salve reeked of mint and honey while a single moth buzzed stubbornly against the lamp above them.
"Two minutes of that form and you cooked yourself to the elbow, kid," she said, biting off the thread, "what happens at five?"
"At five I'm a very handsome torch," he said, flexing his fingers.
"Don't joke about burning, I'm the one who carries you home afterwards," she murmured, her hands staying on his wrist a moment too long.
"Sorry, Auntie Ring."
"Better," she sighed, tucking the bandage roll into his coat pocket, "take it, you never know."
"The Warden won't stop talking and I've run out of ways to say shut up," Juna growled, sticking her head out of the cellar door.
"Is she asleep?" he asked.
She jerked her chin toward the stairs, "I checked her door twice, she hasn't moved."
