[ Friends. He doesn't have too many of those. Few enough in Audentes, and only the one in Azeroth. A man he's not seen in years, anyway. A man he doubts he'll ever see again.

He curls his fingers against the fence, his nails digging into the wood, chipping the paint. He thinks of Tobias's kiss, and he thinks of Twisted Fate's kiss, and he thinks that this is something else that will be taken from him in time. Perhaps more quickly than he realizes.

It would be best to send Fate away. It would be safe.

But his mouth had been so warm.

Koltira swallows thickly. He lifts his head, and the glow of his eyes burns behind the curtain of his pale hair. ]

Few ever trust a death knight, and that is wise. Few befriend us, either. That, too, is wise.

[ He draws his hair back. Exhales false breath, just to steady himself. He remembers walking through Orgrimmar. How the people had screamed, and spat, and called for a noose. He remembers their hatred, and their fear. It's what he's used to. What he expects. ]

But if you would defy that wisdom, I would not turn you away.