"I think you got me this wine," Morrigan said. She let the corner of her mouth twitch up, this time — it was fun, to tease him, like things were the way they'd been. She took a large gulp of her wine, then reached into the pocket of her coat. Even before she'd left him, Morrigan had been in the habit of leaving breadcrumbs for Brooks — gifts that meant something, if she ever gave him enough context to piece them together. A ship in a bottle. A book on Great Lakes wizarding history. A flower arrangement that had an unusual amount of asphodel.

This, though, was particularly on the nose — she held it out to him, an offering. A silver pocketwatch, with gold detailing on the face of it. Time. The thing she so desperately wanted, and would not allow herself to have — when Morrigan was being particularly dramatic, she likened it to her relationship with Brooks. "I know you weren't given one when you turned seventeen."

Brooks had no parents to give him heirlooms — Mor was a poor substitute, but she could try.