He spoke of his life before Nocturne so rarely, that when he did, Regina listened for every word, every nuance, of his feelings. She turned in the circle of his arms, this time, and let one hand rest at his mid-back while the other rubbed a path from his elbow to his shoulder and back.

"We'll do the math," she murmured, making a caress of her voice, too. He was so generous with her, so considerate of her desires and her quirks, it made her hunger to do the same for him. But saying, "The day you became the person you are is one I want to celebrate," wasn't scorekeeping or quid pro quo. It was a simple truth.

Knowing it would make him feel good, loved, she was hesitant to press any questions about his life in New York, but if she never asked, she would never know. Worse, he might think she didn't want to know, or care. So, frowning mildly, she asked, "What do you feel when you think about your life before the Night Dragon?"