After Rose had made her comment and left the room, Fenrir felt a little glum. He sat there for a moment, pressing his palm into his face. [i]Well, I definitely gave her the wrong idea…[/i] he thought. Looking up and through a small circular window, he soaked up the sunlight with his groggy eyes. [i]Mornings…[/i] he sighed. 

He stood up and finished a few standing stretches before finally making his way toward the dining room. As he entered, he was greeted by Willow who asked if he had slept well.

“I, uh… yeah.” Fenrir replied, a little anxiously. He hadn’t, but he felt no reason to bring it up. She may have thought it was the guest room, and while it’s true it was a little uncomfortable, it was his thoughts that had kept him up. The old woman had been more than accommodating already, and he didn’t want to disquiet that with his restless night. Even the little rest he got was impaired by his dream.

[i]That dream…[/i] in that moment, he remembered that he had one. He tried to recall what it was about, though it seemed a blur to him. He could only recall the vast array of emotions that he had felt. He pushed it to the back of his mind and continued on.

“Where is Rose?” Fenrir asked Willow, clearly able to see that she wasn’t in the dining room with them.

“She’s in the kitchen,” Willow replied, “Getting the…” but before could hear her full reply, he had already walked out of the room.

“Hey…” Fenrir stood in the doorway of the kitchen, directing his speech toward Rose, who was pulling something out of the oven. A nervous bead of sweat dropped down his cheek. “…I’m…” he scratched the back of his neck, eyes sort of shifting down and away. “…sorry if I offended you… I didn’t mean to. Mornings are... rough for me...” It was a strange sight; a modest voice and timid look on this robust man. Even he had to think so; unsure of what he was really doing. 

Earlier, in his drowsy state, he had mistaken the red on her face for agitation. Combined with her grumbled comment, Fenrir felt he had insulted her in some way. He wasn’t sure how, he missed distinct details. Often he would when he was tired, so that was no surprise to him. What did surprise him, however, was what he was doing now; this clumsy impulse to say something. 

Hardly having interaction over the years, and never a significant other, this was all new to Fenrir. The only true communication he had since the troubled days of his youth was with a forest dryad who often liked to pester him. His only knowledge of successful relationships all came from books he had read over the years, and so far this had been nothing like those.