Stavanger Bay losing feeling's getting old

he agreed, appearing more than willing. dalia, more keen on noticing things than handfuls of other wolves, made silent note of his hesitation -- note of the size of his pupils -- note of the awkward pause that lingered at the end of his sentence. dalia had sometimes pulled this side of velen from him, but she'd never understood it -- and it'd never been so all at once. dalia wondered how often she acted like this, if her own caution and unease were so easily noted in her appearance. she wondered what he thought she looked like now. 

if he was as observant as she, velen might've noticed her own tenseness to his response. worry flooded her as she silently wondered if she was burdening him -- he seemed so keen on staying with her, so agreeable, but she could only wonder if all his hesitation was on account that he didn't really want to. ah, if only she knew. 

it'd be a lie to say the idea of him in such close quarters with her didn't make her stomach knot -- but the good kind of knot, she couldn't explain it. but he'd said himself he slept wherever, something dalia was entirely unfamiliar with but accepting of. to her den they'd go, which was fine -- it wasn't far off. and he'd warm up quicker in there, and she could easily treat him for a cold if he'd come down with one from his midnight swim.

"it's close," she assured him with a gentle nod, a light, nervous smile pressing to her features, "thank you, velen." and then she led him towards it, feeling more and more at ease -- and somehow, more and more anxious.