Dean did not look at him yet. "For Arion."
The room went quiet.
Arion's hand at Dean's waist tightened once.
Dean felt it, turned his head slowly, and immediately regretted it.
Arion was looking at the tiepin as if Dean had not chosen a small piece of blackened silver from a catalogue but had reached inside him, found something carefully hidden, and placed it on the table for both of them to see.
Dean's face warmed.
"No," he said at once.
Arion blinked. "No?"
"No looking like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I handed you a province."
Arion's voice was quieter than before. "You chose something for me."
"It is a tie pin."
"Yes."
"You own buildings."
"Yes."
"You can buy this entire maison, probably."
"Yes."
"And somehow the tie pin is the emotional damage?"
Arion's mouth curved, but his eyes remained too soft. "Yes."
Dean stared at him.
Then looked away because that was intolerable.
