There comes a point in the fog when sensation starts to dull. Pain loses its edge, especially when your skin is magically sewn back together after every close call. But tonight, even as you bask in the warmth and safety of the campfire, you can't seem to shake the phantom burn of the Knight's sword slashing into your shoulder.

You and Dwight are close, always have been. So it's not a surprise when he nudges your knee from where he sits beside you, asking how you are without saying a word. You only hesitate for a moment before speaking.

"It shouldn't hurt anymore."

His inquisitive look morphs into a knowing one — it's not uncommon for survivors to wake from sleep with a shout and a shudder, having re-lived a mori in their dreams.

"Fucking Knight," you mumble, toeing the dirt beneath your feet.

"Anything I can do to help?" Dwight asks, because he's always trying to be genuinely helpful, even when faced with problems he can't very well solve.

You huff out a humorless laugh. "Kiss it better?"

He says nothing, and you turn your attention back to the crackling fire and the ragtag survivors scattered around it. Then you feel the softest brush of warmth against your shoulder.

Dwight's bridged the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips to your arm with a tenderness that makes your eyes widen. He glances up at you from behind his glasses, head bowed, and your stomach twists pleasantly. At least he has the common sense to look bashful when he pulls away, cheeks and nose flushed red.

"Better?"

You blink. "I'm, uh, definitely not thinking about the Knight anymore."

He smiles, albeit timidly. "Then it worked."

You distantly wonder what the hell happened to the nervous, tentative guy you first met. Not that he's completely composed right now — because he really isn't — but Dwight's flirting with you and he hasn't broken eye contact once.

He swallows thickly; you track his tongue as it darts out to wet his lips. "What... um, what are you thinking about?"

"Need a room, you two?"

Ace grins like a madman at the both of you from across the campfire, effectively ending the moment. Nea laughs, Meg smothers a smile. Suffice to say you've become the best entertainment of the night.

"Sorry! Sorry," Dwight splutters. He looks lost. It's endearing. "I, uh, we— we'll be better about it next time!"

Oh.

Next time.