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Lysander looked at Fiero over his shoulder with an ill-concealed exrpression of annoyance bordering on outright irritation as he walked into the conservatory, where a wide variety of hothouse plants were kept with tender care. He appreciated the foliage, but he actually liked the conservatory because it was reliably warm and he was susceptible to chills even in summer. Fiero noticed his regard and smiled as though unaware he was grating on the ordinarily solitary fae's nerves with his constant presence.

I already have a shadow, Lysander said acerbically. And I'm not in the market for a second one.

Fiero's expression didn't shift in the slightest as he protested playfully: But we look so good together!

Lysander closed his eyes to keep Fiero from seeing that he was rolling them. He'd learned the trick from Lore, who had been his companion while he was growing from an orb to a coursier, and who frequently had to resist urges to roll his eyes at Malecoda's fits of temper. Like Lore, Lysander was ordinarily very tolerant of others, but Fiero had decided to follow him everywhere for the past week, and it Lysander's patience was wearing thin.

Fiero, he said. Do me a favor.

Anything, the elf said without hesitation.

Go find the someone who works in the conservatory and let him or her know that the bromeliads are looking a bit dry. It was the first thing which came to mind. Anything to get Fiero away from him for more than a few breaths' time.

Fiero gave Lysander a look which made it obvious he knew what Lysander was doing, but he would go along with it to humor the relatively stoic fae. He, himself, was not usually an irritating person, but something about being so close to the object of his unrequited affections brought out a certain cockiness he had not known himself to possess, and which Lysander had tolerated with good grace until very recently.

He wandered over to the only other person he could see in the conservatory, a very fair-skinned fairy with pale hair. It was evident she did not work in the conservatory, but he decided to strike up a conversation anyway. Maybe he could make Lysander follow him for once.

Hey, he said, forgetting that wasn't an appropriate salutation in the Underground, and that she would probably not react as he expected. I'm Fiero Corazon. What's your name?

Fiero smiled easily at Valla. He was very comfortable around people like himself. That is, those of the Underground. He was fairly at ease among human beings, too, but only those he knew. He had been warned for as long as he could remember that human beings were dangerous when confronted with the unknown. As an elf, Fiero knew he represented the unknown, and so he had always been careful in dealing with strangers when he lived in the human world.

It was liberating to be in the Underground, where the population was almost entirely non-humans. He didn't have to hide his delicate pointed ears beneath his long red locks, or hope no one realized his eyes were too large by far to belong in a human face. He didn't know how someone who had wings or horns, as he had seen on a number of courtiers, would manage to avoid notice Above.

Valla, he repeated. That's a beautiful name. Does it mean anything? I'm told my name means Fireheart.

He did not remark on the grace with which she moved, though he was new enough to the Underground still to take notice of it. It seemed everyone Underground moved with preternatural grace. He knew his movements had been too easy and graceful to pass for human, and Lysander was the same. Everyone he'd met so far while shadowing Lysander would have put the finest human ballerina to shame.

Still standing by the bromeliads, Lysander watched Fiero with a modicum of interest as he spoke with the fairy. Lysander did admire Fiero's ease with people. He had found himself interacting with more people since Fiero had come to the Goblin King's court than he had met on his own in his entire tenure before. Lysander wasn't very good at introductions of casual niceties. He often wished he could skip that part of a relationship and move straight to the part where all parties were familiar to each other and able to relax and let their guards down.

I'm sure it means something beautiful, he said with perfect sincerity. He'd observed other courtiers for a week, and couldn't resist trying out their manner.

Fiero glanced over his shoulder at Lysander, who might have been looking at them, or might have been looking through them, for all the expression his face held. The fae would have to learn to make his face more animated. It made people uncomfortable to be around people with a flat affect, and more so to converse with such people. It was very difficult to tell what such a person was thinking, and that was uncomfortable. He knew Lysander did it because it was his way of being polite and staying neutral, but that didn't really make it any less irritating. He looked back at Valla.

Lysander? He's...shy. And not particularly good with strangers, to be honest. He shrugged. He wasn't saying anything Lysander wouldn't admit readily, or which someone else couldn't observe with ease. I can try to get him to come over, if you'd like.

He knew Lysander would come if called, rather than give offense, but there was no guarantee he'd say much more than a perfunctory greeting and then look uncomfortable. Well. A person could hope. He glanced at Lysander again over his shoulder and jerked his head in a clear Come Hither sort of motion. He could see Lysander's piteous Spare Me look and ignored it, meeting his gaze pointedly and raising his eyebrows impatiently. Lysander looked resigned and walked over, weaving through the plants without touching any of them.

Yes? he asked. At least he didn't sound waspish. He felt waspish. Fiero knew he hated this, and yet he kept making him do it. Someday Fiero was going to find himself dead. But not this moment. So Lysander reminded himself to be pleasant and nodded politely to Valla.