Sun Mote Copse It's called a lance, hello!

He had to admit that he enjoyed the gesture, the small touch to his shoulder. It was good to be back in the same place. It was true that he'd resented her at one point for leaving to be with Colt, but Phox was learning it was easier to forgive and move on than hold on to grudges. That didn't mean nothing would upset him. He just tried to take a step back and understand it after his emotions came down a bit.

When she mentioned the psychic, he let out a dry chuckle. You think I'd let you get a hold of one of those? Something tells me you'd use them for ~nefarious~ purposes, he said, clearly joshing her about the whole thing. As for Phox, he wasn't sure what he would even ask a psychic. He certainly didn't want to know how he would die (or worse, how his kids would die), but for some reason that was the only question he could think of. Maybe he could ask if things between Niamh and him would ever move beyond the platonic, but that too he'd rather find out in real-time. Something about knowing would make it feel less authentic either way.