While I’d slept, Fin had completely rearranged. I ran a hand over the top of the bookshelf. No dust coated my fingers. The man had cleaned my apartment. On the good side, it looked about twice as big as it had before. On the downside, he’d cleaned my apartment and rearranged everything. I wasn’t an organized person, at least not by many people’s standards. It was the idea that Fin had touched all my personal possessions that ate at me.
He stood in the kitchen at the stove stirring some eggs in a skillet. Damn it. The man had cleaned my apartment. I should be angry at him but yelling at the person about to feed me didn’t feel like a grateful thing to do.
I leaned on the kitchen door frame. “So, busy night?”
He waved the spatula toward the living room. “I should have asked permission, I apologize. I don’t sleep and movement helps me stay focused.”
“Fae don’t sleep?”
He tipped his gaze up to me before focusing on the eggs again. “No, fae sleep the same as humans. It’s just me who doesn’t sleep. Not more than a few hours at a time, anyway. Not since...”
By the way he broke off, I knew he meant Sol. Sometimes I forgot I wasn’t the only person’s life the Black Mage had destroyed.
Fin plated the eggs and carried them to the small card table I usually used to organize files in my little dining room. Now, he’d covered it with a lilac tablecloth, two napkins, two forks, and salt and pepper shakers.
“What did you do with my paperwork?” I asked when I took the seat opposite him.
He placed the food in front of me and waved at my desk. “Where the files live, in the file drawer of course.”
He spoke as if I were adorable and knew nothing.
Under normal circumstances, his tone would have grated on me, but I couldn't summon my usual ire.
The eggs were delicious, of course. I dug in and alternated bites of eggs and toast he’d tossed on the plate.
“Taste okay?” he asked
I peered at him over the end of my fork, still shoved in my mouth. Once I swallowed, I nodded. “Yes, they are great. Thank you. I am trying to figure out how I didn’t hear you going all House Flipper on my place while I slept.”
He shrugged as he stirred his food around his plate. “I can be quiet when I want to be.”
It took me no more than five minutes to clear my plate and take it to the kitchen to rinse it off. Instead of washing, I stacked everything in the sink and returned to the table with a fresh cup of coffee. Damn. He even made better coffee than me.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
I appreciated him waiting to grill me until I’d put something in my stomach.
Using the Snoopy print mug as a shield between us, I stared him down. “Shoot.”
He slid his hand palm up across the table. “May I?”
Oh.
Asking me questions about my dreams weirded me out enough, but letting him inside my head...I didn’t know if I could let him do it.
“What does it entail?” I asked.
He shifted in the seat and met my gaze directly. “You picture what it is you want me to see and I’ll be able to see it in my own mind. No more, no less.”
“Will you be able to read my thoughts?”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Anything to hide?”
I put the mug down on the table and flipped him off. “If I do, it’s none of your business.”
He tilted his head to the side, studying me, the crystal in his irises catching what little sunlight my apartment received. “I wonder what it’s like inside your head. Is your inner monologue equally brash? Or do you play a part, and inside you’re a lot softer than you appear on the outside?”
As usual, he’d hit a little too close to the mark for my comfort.