The night had fallen upon them a little too quickly for Alistair to find comforting, his palms sweating while his mouth ran dry. The heat of the campfire almost paled in comparison to the warmth he was feeling as he sat by your side.

"Here, look at this," he finally mustered the courage and handed over the rose he had been carrying, trying to sound as casual as possible lest his plan utterly backfire. "I picked it in Lothering."