There are moments when I wonder...it is probably the novelty of things, truly. [ He crackles a laugh, a little bitter, a lot weary as he sits on the bed, his fingers tangled in one another, his eyes on his hands. ] Giving power to the elf, letting me fuck him, giving me the authority in this- it is a game. I know that. I am not all that certain he does.

[ The heat in his eyes, how he begs so sweetly-

It is a game. An ache. There is nothing more there and even should there be? He cannot pursue it. If nothing else Alistair's scorn, Beleth's warning, Anders' hesitation, Sabine's impassioned cries against-

They give him pause. Judgement he does not care for but- it gives him pause. ]

We are speaking seriously, yes? So...let me speak seriously.

[ Especially since he is certain this shall not leave the room. ]

A lack of judgement. Soft and shapely women, broad and well muscled men. A sense of humor- were it not for Dorian? I might...I might pursue Bull in as much as I know how to do so. He understands me quite well. As it is they fit. I cannot stand in the way of such a thing...but that understanding. To be as broken as I am, perhaps. To not be would leave me feeling as though I cannot hope to measure up.