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Jordan hadn't done anything the previous day, still sore, tired and irritated from everything that had happened. Instead, he'd taken the liberty of sleeping most of the day, nominally to finish recovering from his injuries, but mostly because he really didn't feel up to explaining to anyone else. Or, for that matter, being civil to anyone else. This morning, though, he'd woken up feeling considerably better. Physically, anyway. The sour mood still lingered, and he'd taken a roll and a cup of coffee back to his room rather than staying in the cafeteria, in the general interest of not snapping at anyone who didn't deserve to be snapped at.

I'm sure you could find someone, Ferros put in helpfully.

I'm ignoring you. Jordan leaned back against the foot of the bed and propped his book up on one knee. Even if he wasn't training today - and two days was about the most he was willing to let it slide - he could still study.

Jordan looked up at the door, briefly considered staying quiet. Then he sighed. He'd been irresponsible all yesterday. Not a habit to get into. "I'm here," he answered. "Come in. It's not locked."

Ferros snickered quietly in the back of his head.

Most of the books seemed to be texts of some sort, some from the library, a few that had probably been in Jordan's bag when he'd come here. A couple of novels and notebooks sat on one of the shelves; beside them was a small frame with a worn photo in it. Aside from that, there wasn't much personal in the room.

At the mention of "practice," Jordan grimaced slightly. "In need of more practice, apparently," he answered dryly, flipping his book closed and setting it aside so that he could pick up his coffee cup again. Jerry looked nervous; while this wasn't really out of the ordinary, it probably meant that this wasn't entirely a social call. "Is something up?"

Of all the things he didn't actually want to talk about ... "Yes, I know her," Jordan said, and stared flatly at Jerry. "A tiff. I don't suppose it was because of a certain weapon." And if by some chance it hadn't been, there was something that Jerry really ought to know.

He rubbed absently at the fading red line that slashed across his collarbone and disappeared under the collar of his shirt. He'd been assured that it wasn't going to scar, but the soreness hadn't yet gone away entirely.

"I ran into her. She wanted to spar," Jordan said. He left the rest of it out; while he'd implied a less than excellent result, if Jerry wanted to know the outcome for sure, he was going to have to ask.

Jerry sounded so discouraged. Unhappy. Jordan took a mouthful of coffee by way of stalling, his chest tightening uncomfortably with the implications. Finally, he said, "I think it was the weapon. It's ... We were told not to try wielding anyone else's weapon. If that's what happens, I can see why." He sighed, rubbed his free hand over his eyes, and said, "I don't think she was in her right mind while she had Circe."

"I'd like to ask him that myself." Jordan tipped his head back against the side of the bed and closed his eyes, resting his cup on his drawn-up knee. "I wouldn't put it past him to give that kind of lesson. I have to wonder - are we all going to be like that, when we've been here long enough?"

At Jerry's other question, he sat back up and opened his eyes again. "I - no, not really," he said. Here, now, with the limitations and the desperate fight they were all fighting, he couldn't really blame Jerry for clinging to the first real sign of affection and interest he'd had. "I have to say I'm worried about the obsessive behavior, though," he added. "If she's still pining for someone else's weapon, I'm really not sure how much self-control she has."

"This is different." Jordan gave Jerry a long, steady look. "Would you ignore Roar yelling at you for any other weapon?" Without realizing it, he began to stroke his thumb over the band of the ring that was Ferros's unsummoned form. "I can't imagine Atropos was happy about that."

He looked down at his hands then, set his cup down to touch the red jewel in the ring. "If it was a lesson, and the lesson took," he said, "maybe it won't happen again." He looked up at Jerry, serious and sober. "If not - I can't tell you what to do, Jerry, but I don't want to see you get hurt."

Jordan looked down at his hands again, unable to meet Jerry's eyes. "It's not something I can decide for you," he said quietly. Why did this hurt? He didn't understand. "I'm - not the best person to ask about relationships. All I can say ... " He trailed off, took a careful breath. "All I can say is that you should be honest with her. Tell her what you feel. And then see what she does."

Ferros snorted. Really? Are you giving up? Just like that?

What?