[b]There isn’t time to be sorry here. [/b]Ghent rubbed at the side of his jaw, unsure how to respond to the statement. It was his turn to say something, but he didn’t know what more he could possibly offer. If an apology wasn’t good enough, what was? Her reaction made him want to take the apology back.
	The girl wasn’t done, however. Ghent looked to her dubiously as her tone changed, noticeably less grim than it had been. She acknowledged his ability to clean up his mess, which he thought was generous considering she nearly died. 
	Ghent began to reply, the words catching in his throat. To his disbelief, Elayra actually [i]smiled.[/i]
	In that short moment, Ghent forgot their past squabbles. Her smile was pretty as it was contagious. He smiled in return, feeling a sense of warmth toward her he didn’t believe possible. The apology had been worth it, if only for that. 
	His smile faded when he looked to her neck. His mind was brought back to the terraflames, Elayra's backhanded compliments almost going missed by him.
	“Gee, thanks,” Ghent responded sarcastically, leaning back on his palms. His wrist objected to the pressure, but his spine demanded the opportunity to stretch.  “You do know an ‘I forgive you’, works too, right?”
	After the box was presented, Ghent begrudgingly sat up. He nodded when she mentioned bandaging their wounds first, another question blossoming in his mind. Could the Forsaken and their offspring pick up on the scent of blood? He didn’t want to ask.
	Pushing the unpleasant thoughts aside, Ghent drew one leg to his chest. He rose with a groan, his muscles chastising him for the too-short break.
	Venturing closer, Ghent stood about a foot away as Elayra grabbed a roll of bandages. He glanced toward the clearing while he waited, scanning the ground for his staff. When he looked back, Elayra had her hand held out to him. 
	“Uh…” Ghent stared at her palm, lifting his gaze to see the expectant look on her face. He turned halfway, patting himself down as if he somehow had the weapon stashed in one of his pockets. He didn’t.
	“Yeah, about that? I might have…dropped it.” Ghent admitted with a lazy sort of shrug. In his opinion, losing a dagger wasn’t a big deal. Elayra probably had half a dozen others, and he wasn’t about to offer to go back in the cold water for it. “Y’know. When I was saving your life,” he reminded her, folding his arms across his chest. “What? Don’t you have another one you can use?”