Regan was, weirdly enough, packing her things. She was in their old room, down the end of a long hall. It needed to be cleared so that it could reassume its intended purpose: storing equipment. Regan didn’t have many things, but what she had needed to be dealt with. More than a few of her training clothes had been singed to disuse, so that was probably something she was going to have to deal with as well.

She had just chucked one of her training tunics into a “needs to be tossed” pile when Othello would, no doubt, come bursting into where he’d been directed. Regan’s head would snap up, brow furrowed over her now scarred features.

She wouldn't say anything. She'd freeze, like a rabbit caught in a carriage's path.

Othello did bust through the door and he slammed it behind him, he watched how she froze and the scars...the anger seemed to ebb away for the moment...he didn't approach her at first but Othello was bold and in one step he was in front of her big hands reaching up and probably most surprising for Regan would be how gentle his touch was.

"How long have you been back?" there was still a edge to his voice as he dropped his hands, "I haven't got a single update about you, not how you were or if you were coming back!" his voice was rising and he did his best to control it, "had enough time to go eat though huh? I figure now the Commander was right we are done?"

Regan stiffened when Othello slammed the door behind him. Though he softened when seeing her scars, Regan remained rooted firmly to the spot until he touched her face. She flinched a little, then immediately felt bad for doing so. Regan was on the defensive, and like a cornered critter, wanted to strike back.

“You’re really gonna do this with me?” Regan scowled, taking a step toward him, “I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’ve been a little busy being put back together again. So maybe, just maybe this isn’t about you. But if you want to see it that way? Be my fucking guest.”

Regan’s voice wavered for a fraction of a second before she tossed a uniform angrily into the corner.

Othello stepped forward too but he didn't rush into the rage that pressed against his pursed lips, he didn't say anything just stared down at her. Swallowing down his temper he finally spoke, "Besides Benji, you are all I have, I saw you get smacked by that creature and then you were gone and there was blood. I have to spend every minute in between, here, alone until the next day...I almost killed that boy... Octavius...the Commander is yelling at me like I'm a fucking idiot and alllll that time between all I can do is wonder about you....I am sorry. I care about you Regan."

Regan was ready to flare into a fight. She welcomed it. Fighting was better than feeling whatever this was. But Othello didn’t. Instead of retorting with venom, he returned with concern, with care, which made her brow unwind and her fists loosen their grip.

“I just…don’t want to see people. Or don’t want them to see me. I just…” Regan sighed, running a hand through her hair, “I’m sorry.”

As soon as he saw her relax that's when Othello pulled Regan to him and wrapped her up in a hug. It was tight and he just kind of held her for a while...he just couldn't be pissed at Regan Lassiter. He tried. He got to sit on it for a few days but seeing her definitely melted away the frost. Eventually he pulled away and placed his rugged hands on each side of her face rugged and calloused thumbs trailing the edge of the scarring on her face, "Listen kid, fuck that, fuck that...you don't hide. You don't sulk, as many times as I've wanted to dig into myself you don't let me so I ain't going to let you," he didn't know what the hell he was doing but he figured normal people and parents did things like this, what he probably could have done with a hug or a pep talk had someone given a shit about him?

"You fucking show those scars to the world, you let those fucking people know Regan Lassiter the fucking Huntsman is a badass and a little cosmetic damage ain't shit," normal parents probably wouldn't use such colorful distributions and flavor words, Othello wasn't normal of course, "I love you, and I'm sorry too."

Regan clung to Othello, a few tears leaking out of her eyes as she did. She was struck by how lucky she was. Othello could have been a nightmare; made her life a living hell these past several months for no other reason than ‘because he could.’

But instead, they had this. When Othello said he loved her, she didn’t doubt it for an instant. Strangely, Othello Allemeade’s loyalty had become a certainty in an otherwise uncertain world.

“It’s silly,” Regan pulled her face up, brushing her tears aside, “I know it’s silly. A boy’s dead and here I am…” She shook her head, once again burning her face in Othello’s chest like a baby bird nestling under its mother’s wing.

Othello just let her cry, even when the little bit of tears fell down like rain be just let her cry as he held her. There was no lusty affection, it wasn't any other feeling than what truthfully a Father would do to comfort a daughter.

As she nestled large worn hands seemed to stroke the back of her head, "It's not silly you are a head of that boy and more, you are alive Regan I for one couldn't be happier," he fell silent again let her sing if it eases all her pain he thought, let her go, let her walk right out on him
and if the sun comes up tomorrow, let her be, he'd just let her be.

Regan sighed, grinning with sheepish relief. “Yeah,” She grumbled through her smile, “Guess that’s the most important thing. It’s all about you, after all.” It felt good to sink into the routine of teasing Othello. A scrap of normality in an abnormal time.

“So, you all set up with a house yet?” She said, returning to her task of packing her things.

He laughed with her as they separated and as she packed he sat on his old bed laying over on his elbow picking at a little knick on the back of his hand, "I have, a little three bedroom lofty sort of place, a room for each of us, yours you'll fix up for yourself as the door and room is open to you as please," but there was something else he needed to discuss with Regan, "before we dive further into that, I spoke with the Commander the day following the ball....says I need to talk to you about an upcoming mission?"

Regan smirked. Othello was a surprise in every conceivable way. She had to admit, a room of her own would come in handy. Staying in the unmarried gifted man’s house was scandalous to be sure, but Regan at this point had no reputation to uphold on that end.

She stilled at Othello’s question. She’d almost forgotten, how had she let it slip her mind? Already that seemed a lifetime ago that she and Cassian had talked about the upcoming plans to go to Cambria.

“Oh, right,” Regan ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head, “I mean to talk to you but—the ball, everything just—it got lost. Here,” Regan motioned for Othello to sit on the bed opposite hers and she’d do the same.

“Cambira,” She’d say, “That’s the move. One of their backward zealot types has been abducting and branding Cambrian women that have had children by men of Nevermere. We’re to find the culprits and bring them to Nevermere to face justice.”

Regan paused there, her tone businesslike.

Othello sat and he listened, head perking up a bit at the mentioning of Cambria because of his history with the place, but said nothing as she spoke. She knew of his history in a sense with the blonde so he wondered if the King did too, if not he wasn't going to say anything.

"How well do you think that will go?" he asked just as business like, even though he just assumed he knew the answer. It was going to be difficult, he remembered how he had been greeted so so so many years ago and it had resulted in many deaths.

Regan’s brow furrowed before she ran a hand through her hair with a sigh. “I dunno,” She said eventually, shrugging, “Hopefully better than the whole Coheed debacle.” Regan hesitated for a moment before saying:

“I haven’t told anyone about your, uh, last encounter with Cambirans. But I have to know…how recognizable do you think you’ll be there?”