It came about in the showers after the playhouse performance. Fingon was washing his hair; Daeron had just stepped in. “Fin, can I ask you something about... how you are?”
“About being a dancer?”
“No, the... about you, being—“
“I know what you meant.”
“Oh.”
Fingon smirked as he washed his hair. “Go ahead, ask.”
Daeron gave a long pause. “So, do you think it’s hereditary?”
“No, because neither my father nor my son are.”
“Oh, good. Because, I think my son is.. and I love my wife... so...“
“So, what, exactly?” wondered Fingon curiously.
“I was a little worried, if it was hereditary, that I might be, you know, like that.”
Fingon rolled his eyes and playfully hit his friend in the head.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Daeron speaking with Fingon