Flins had meant to observe you.

That was all.

You were alone in one of the cemeteries of Nodkrai, your breath curling in the cold. Your presence was interesting enough for him to take a closer look. He shifted into his lantern form and placed himself where you’d pass — perched on a ledge of frost-covered stone, faintly glowing.

You weren’t supposed to actually pick him up.

And you definitely weren’t supposed to take him home.

But you did, turning him over in your hands with an odd fascination, carrying him through the snowy roads to your lodging. He felt every movement, every tap, every idle stroke on the metal casing.

He stayed silent.

He had a plan: wait until you were asleep, transform back, slip out the door, pretend this never happened. Except… you didn’t just set him down and forget about him.

You interacted with the lantern in ways he absolutely hadn’t anticipated — strange, personal, a bit too intimate for an object that was, in fact, a living person. Or any object of that kind. In his long life, he had never once thought that anyone could do something like this...

You headed to your room, lying on the bed in the dark. He was frozen inside the lantern, stuck and metaphorically sweating as your hands wrapped around the slim object. You turned it around a couple of times, rubbing the glass with your thumbs. It was pretty and nicely warm.

A shot of panic ran through him upon being lowered, seeing your legs part.

---

You finally drifted off, the room dim and quiet. He hesitated. Then the lantern pulsed with soft light, and the metal frame twisted. In a second, Flins stood there in human form beside your bed.

He stared at you, at the lantern, then back at you.

A whole swirl of emotions crossed his face: embarrassment, mild horror, deep regret at not picking a better hiding spot, a thought "what is wrong with this person?”

He contemplated leaving immediately, but part of him felt responsible. And another part was morbidly curious what you’d say when you woke up.

So he sighed, pulled a blanket over your shoulder (more out of awkward guilt than kindness), and sat quietly in the corner, trying to decide whether to reveal himself properly… or vanish the moment you stirred.