He revels quietly in the soft turns of her lips, the way her lids flutter in concentration and how otherwise still she is while she is working. He enjoys her this way, undistracted by myriad bodies with souls she has come to love, so very unlike himself in how she flutters from heart to heart, landing for a brief moment for the lucky subject of her focus to admire the colors of her wings. This way, she is more completely his to enjoy, relaxed and comforting in her warmth, and he is peaceful around her when she too is at peace.

The lag of her work speed does not go unnoticed, the easily shamed stag mistaking her thoughts on brothers to be a dislike of his mindless chattering. His initial worry slaked back as she more vigorously worked once more, seemingly with his increased description of why it was he had been curious about the way various objects melded into the glass.

Her laughter breaks the anxious sweat that threatens to build on his brow when his words are concluded, the inexperienced man taking the sound to be one that equals his own delight rather than a noise representative of a shoulder shrug and a slow, easy “I have no idea.”

Still, her voice is enthusiastic and matches his imagined Kahlua well, and he smiles in return of her words with as broad a grin as had swept his face when the idea had first occurred to him. He truly had little clue as to where he might find diamonds, either, but he knew that there were precious stones around the Heart if one could manage to break them free of the stone.

"Indeed," he begins, watching the trinket form with even more avid interest now that it is nearing completion, "I believe there are gemstones around the Heart. I just don’t know how to get them out of the ground is all." He glances at her from one pale blue eye, smile almost apologetic for he cannot bring her all that she desires on his own. "There is a pretty thick layer of melted sand over it all – glass, I mean."

Quickly engrossed in the project at Kahlua’s hooves, the conversation slips away with minor additions in response to her thanks at this offer to deliver the item to the one who had ordered it. Before he knows it (and much too soon, truly – he quite enjoys the company of the Glazier and observing the work she does) she has finished her creation, which lies gleaming and whole in the faint, bough filtered light of the afternoon as she playfully jostles his neck.

She asks him what he thinks.

He cannot think.

For a while he stands there and pretends to be focusing on the crown, though he already knows it is beautiful and without flaw. His heart is going to explode, he just knows it. He can feel the blood pressing its way into every nook and cranny of his body, fighting its way through the layers of his flesh to surely burst outward and across all of the clearing they have spent the day in.

Thankfully, no such thing happens, and he is able to respond within a respectable amount of time. His shame is minimal; he is pleased with himself for learning to control his hormones so fully even on the day of their discovery, and it leaves him smiling most moronically, one corner of his mouth skewed at a different angle from the other, his eyes slightly off focus (though hopefully not terribly so) before he blinks away the bleariness and returns his gaze to the most beautiful Glazier. "It is perfect," he says, his grin growing more even and filling with his warm pride towards his teacher…

No matter that she was only teaching him how to be around a pretty girl.

Perhaps, even, how to earn forgiveness when one deserves none. Returning his thoughts to the task of delivery, he reinstates who it is for and where he will be going to drop it off. "Shadow, of the Dragon's Throat, right?" he asks, his brow arching upwards as he notices the size of the thing Kahlua has made, "She's awfully little, isn't she?"