[ He turns the puppy—Doghren, whether Zevran likes it or not, unless he comes up with something better—back to face him instead and squints into her trusting, too-small eyes like he's expecting her to convince him of something. She doesn't respond at all, but after a moment he looks satisfied. ]
And it always ends so well. [ He nudges Zevran's boot with the toe of his own, grinning, before his face changes-without-changing, the way faces sometimes do, with tighter edges and a different light in the eyes even though nothing actually moves—it changes into something with forced, artificial nonchalance. ] You've met Morrigan's boy, right?
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[ He turns the puppy—Doghren, whether Zevran likes it or not, unless he comes up with something better—back to face him instead and squints into her trusting, too-small eyes like he's expecting her to convince him of something. She doesn't respond at all, but after a moment he looks satisfied. ]
And it always ends so well. [ He nudges Zevran's boot with the toe of his own, grinning, before his face changes-without-changing, the way faces sometimes do, with tighter edges and a different light in the eyes even though nothing actually moves—it changes into something with forced, artificial nonchalance. ] You've met Morrigan's boy, right?