Hawk closed his hand around Numair's. There was a brief silence, while Numair looked away. Finally, he murmured, "I know, intellectually, that this is not my fault, but I still feel guilty. I know these rooms are warded, and nothing will happen to me when you leave, but I still feel paranoid. And then, I know it's quite reasonable to feel these things, but seems selfish to. Someone is dead."

Hawk leaned forward over the desk and kissed Numair's forehead, as Numair continued quietly, "So it's not quite a lie: I am fine. I just do not feel fine."

Hawk kissed his lips next, and then pulled away enough to say, "I can stay if you want."

"No, no," Numair whispered, though he was holding Hawk's face gently now to keep him from pulling away any more. But he relented, and grasped Hawk's hands instead. He continued assuringly, "I am fine. The sooner we can get the weapon to the Treiha, the better."

"Then I'll get it an' be back as quick as I can," Hawk said, though he didn't pull his hands from Numair's hold just yet.

"Please," Numair agreed, not letting go either. "Don't touch it if you can avoid it--wrap it in something, perhaps."

"Got it."