"Des. Des." Neshomeh had to catch the soldier by the arm as he walked by. "Desdendelle, sit down."

"What? Why? I don't need to sit down." Desdendelle practically vibrated, held in place by the other Boarder. "I'm fine. Forget about sitting..." He pulled free, and walked quickly over to the kitchen counter. Once there, he filled the electric kettle and turned it on.

Neshomeh sighed. "Desdendelle, this is an intervention."

"Oh? What for?" Impatient and jittery, Desdendelle grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water from the giant urn that sat next to the kettle. He dropped in a tea bag and some sugar, and sighed happily. "Ah, there you are, ahuvi...all hot and ready and waiting..."

Both of Neshomeh's eyebrows flew up. "Des," she said loudly. "Desdendelle. Earth to-"

"Mm, tea." Desdendelle inhaled the wonderful scent, and then blinked and looked up at Neshomeh. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Des," Neshomeh said, exasperated. She sighed. "This isn't working."

"What isn't?"

"The intervention." Neshomeh ran her hands through her hair; one got stuck, and she tugged it free with a wince. "Des, you can't keep drinking so much tea. You barely sleep, you bounce everywhere, you-you're talking to the tea like it's your lover! You-"

"It is my lover."

Neshomeh practically screeched to a halt. "What?"

The soldier smiled at her, and took another sip. "The tea. It's my lover. I'm in love."

The female Boarder screwed her eyes shut and then opened them. Nothing changed.

"Don't worry," Desdendelle said. He patted her arm, grinning. "I'm not against shari--"

"Right," said Neshomeh. "Oh, what was that? I think-yes, that's definitely Phobos calling me. Bye!" And she disappeared in a cloud of coffee grounds.

Desdendelle breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of well-brewed tea.

"Good," he said, and drank some more. He turned to the ever-growing collection of mugs on the kitchen counter, wondering whether it was time to start washing them yet. No, he still had at least three clean ones...borrowing DawnFire's teacups and Neshomeh's coffee mugs had been a good idea, especially since neither of them had figured it out yet.

**

A continent or so away, Neshomeh stopped with her hand on the door to her house.

"That son of an Orc," she said. "That was my NaNoWriMo coffee mug he was drinking from."

Well, she thought as she stepped inside. At least he'd left her Wiki-updating mug alone. She'd brought it with her, and it was still in her hands-

Neshomeh looked down at both hands-both empty hands-and groaned.

Great. Now she had to mount a rescue mission. French Press would leave her, at this rate...