Jamie's gaze never really left her as she flitted about. Luckily, if she did glance back, he looked tired enough to where it could just be assumed that he was dazed and not paying attention. He was though, watching every move and every bit about her. He noticed the simple cotton dress paired with the ribbon to hold her braid together behind her. He doubted it would hold long though. It rarely did. Eventually she'd have tendrils of hair loose from their confines and doing as they please. It make him smirk. A carefree spirit clearly couldn't have anything that was overly tamable.

He nodded at her question though before shrugging slightly. "Two weeks or so," he answered, voice still tired and gruff but he went on to add, "Don't worry, I popped in on occasion briefly to see to the pups." He knew she'd have given him quite the look if he didn't assure her that the pups had been taken care of despite his absence. He hadn't slept in the shack for two weeks but had had made sure to come back when he could. And, as was obvious, the pups were just fine.

But he was shrugging again over her concerns of getting sick. "I've never known a MacFusty to die from getting sick," he said with a pointed look, "Just death by dragon for us." He chuckled at that as it was mostly true when it came down to it. If they made it to old age, they'd be lucky if they ever died. But, more often than not, their lives were cut short because of a dragon.

He took a sip of his tea then, trying to ignore the feeling of frustration that she was more worried about caring for the pups if he did perish of whatever imaginary illness she was predicting would befall him. He supposed he shouldn't be all that upset by it. She was only there for the pups again, after all. Not him.

---