A friend, he repeats to himself, as though hearing it inside his head will make him feel it the way he needs to. Vex'ahlia, the dearest friend he has, looking at him with a smile that makes him want to lean down and kiss her - a friend, entirely a friend.

"Please." Knowing what he does, he's not sure he can offer to build her a bed in trade - it's hard to think of making one while knowing who else frequents it - but no doubt he can come up with something else suitable to repay her. There's no need, but that doesn't mean Percy doesn't want to; even under these awkward circumstances, his instinct is to give her everything. "I'll take a shack with gapped floorboards and cracks in the walls if there's room for a workshop."