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It is dark by the time Scott leaves the mage tower, the smell of blaze powder clinging to his skin. The moon has long since risen, and yet the barrels are still not filled with the precious resources they will soon need. Only the owls and the bats seem to be awake - and likely Owain, on watch at the castle gates.
Careful not to scrub his eyes - no matter how much he washes his hands, some potion ingredient or another always clings to them - Scott makes his way home. He weaves through the trees, tip toes across the bridge, and hops from flower to flower.
Soon, sleep. Face first in his bed, passing out until the cockerels crow and he quickly waters the flowers before he returns to the potions lab.
... Scott does not want to think about how long it has been since he has seen the sun.
Coming to his cottage, something is strange. Tired as he is it takes Scott a moment to process. Once he has worked it out, however, it is as obvious as starlight; one Nominal Gravy, snoring and slumped on the deck and beside his front door.
The snoring is loud and obvious enough that Scott softly laughs rather than worries, making soft steps close, and then kneeling at his side.
Gently, with less fear than is sensible, Scot reaches out, and flicks Nom's chin.
The response is immediate grumbling, followed by the opening of bleary eyes. They are both confused and annoyed for a moment, before they find Scott's own and immediately perk up.
"Scott!" Nom's voice is filled with sleep, but also obnoxiously cheerful for the situation. "I was waiting for you!"
A flash of guilt fills Scott's stomach, even if Nom had never told him he was coming over.
"I can see that," is what he replies instead. "Brave knight, asleep by my door."
Nom yawns and starts standing. Scott, too tired for much, leaves him to sort himself out as he heads inside. It is too late for a real meal and so he grabs just some bread, shoving it in his mouth as he strips off his cape and boots.
And looks back, to see Nom standing in the doorway, looking in expectantly.
Scott swallows the mouthful of bread.
"Come in if you like," Scott tells him. "But I'm eating this then going to bed."
Nom quickly steps over the threshold, shutting the door behind him. He says nothing as he comes over, wrapping his arms around Scott and hopping onto tiptoes that he might rest his chin on Scott's shoulder.
It is warm, it is comfortable, Scott would fall asleep standing right there if he could, but no, the bed is necessary. He needs to be able to work more tomorrow.
"You smell of strength pots."
Scott can feel Nom's nose wrinkle as he says it.
Scott can also feel hated bark rubbing against the soft skin of his neck.
"Hmm," Scott agrees. "Healing is better made in the morning, so I do the weirder ones at night."
"Strength isn't weird."
"Says you."
Scott finished the bread as quickly as sluggish movements allow, quiet content to let a sleepy Nom take his weight for a while. Once he has eaten, however, he turns to hug Nom too.
"Bedtime," Scott says, trying to pull away after only a few seconds. "You can stay if you want to."
He does not manage it himself; no sooner has he said the words than Nom sweeps him off his feet, and heads towards the ladder.