“Good.”

Murdoc takes a step ahead, pretending as if he’s done with the conversation. As if the flutter of his heart and the rare show of affection were meaningless. They have a job to attend to and fussing around won’t get it done. He flicks and dusts at the arm of his jacket, despite the fact that he looks just as neat and precise as he did when he walked into the forest. He keeps his back to Peter, worrying his lip a little. He wanted to dismiss it, why does his mind keep dwelling on it? He’ll wind up involved in a lot more trouble than he bargained for if he panders to a silly boy’s feelings.

Guilt suddenly wells up in his chest, coupled with a yearning for contact. He suddenly feels overwhelmingly lonely, despite being in the company of someone so strangely endearing. He pushes it down and stifles it, clearing his throat and peering over his shoulder at Peter.

“Did the unicorns tell you anythin’?”