Dawnlark Plains Got no time to waste, I'm already late

Truth be told, he's still mad as hell; he wants nothing more than to start yelling, listing off all the reasons why this is stupid and Midar is stupid — but he can't, and he won't. Not yet anyway. Each time his gaze passes over his companion's wounds, he imagines the pain he must be in, and the thought makes his chest ache. He's done a lot of selfish things, but he dislikes the idea of adding yelling at his wounded lover to the list. Even if Midar sort of deserves it. He sucks in a breath when the other speaks, torn between irritation and guilt. You're welcome, He says softly between grooming, then pauses altogether to add: You should come home with me. I have poppy seeds there — for pain.