Brian noticed Khaat didn't come down for lunch. He didn't say a syllable about it, though. Robert merely looked at him across the table to silently tell him to leave it alone.
Robert's belief was that Khaat was a big girl and certainly knew when lunch was. He wasn't going to coddle her, even though he realized she was more than likely just trying to cope with the pain if it was truly as severe as she said it was.
He finished the salad before he got into his entrée and then changed his mind. "If you'll all excuse me for just a moment," he said, laying his napkin aside and standing up. "I'll be right back. Do continue." He went upstairs. Khaat was sitting quietly drinking from the mug Brant had sent up.
"Still hurting?" he asked quietly.
"Its easing up a bit," she said softly, staring out the window.
"I'm not giving up, you know," he said.
"And you're a fool," she told him bluntly. "Its a waste of your time."
"Then if that's true, its mine time to waste," he said. "When did you ever have such a lack of faith in me?"
"When you try to do the impossible," she said glaring at him.
"Are you blaming me for this injury?" he asked.
"No," she said angry at him now. "But I certainly intend to finish it."
"Lovely," the portrait mumbled. "I'm sure the werewolves will be delighted by bright pink glitter. Or have you not told him about that yet?"
"I've been here with you, you twit!" she snapped. "Or shall I hang you in the attic?"
"And when have you ever been this terse with Remus?" Robert asked her.
"The glitter, Brother," the portrait said. "I suspect her magic has shorted out in her shoulder."
"It doesn't just short out. Its not an electrical circuit," Robert snorted. Just the same, he checked her shoulder. "It is definitely not right, though. Don't use that side for a bit until I can tend it."
"Capital idea," she said, looking at the portrait. She hadn't used her injured shoulder when she'd apparated and it still had gone wrong.
"Are you coming for lunch?"
"I think I'll enjoy my coffee, thank you," she said. "Thank you for asking, though." He touched her shoulder lightly and drew off some of the pain for her. She didn't say a word but was very grateful all the same.
"You don't have to wait so long to ask me to draw it off. But you can't expect me to be a mind reader either," he said, turning and going back to the table.
"So," he smiled, taking his place back at the head of the table. "How is the chicken and noodles?"