[ He'd expected to be kept waiting for a little while. But when the space of ten minutes becomes twenty, becomes half an hour, becomes three quarters? A small part of him wonders if he's been had. If this is an elaborate trap- the Crows know his sort, know his needs, they'd built them into him after all and any Mercenary worth their salt isn't above turning over a high payday on someone they don't know. What had been casual leaning streatched into checking the locks on the windows, on the door, looking for points of ambush, looking for traps or weapons hidden around the bed.
Nothing that an assassin would use. But if The Iron Bull wished him dead he wouldn't need knives.
Twice more he had paced the room before settling back against the wall, anticipation and anxiety winding the knot in his gut tighter and tighter till he felt he could be sick with it.
The rush of relief when Bull ambles up and closes the door behind him is almost staggering. He isn't sure for a moment if he's lightheaded in truth or it's his imagination, it's enough for him to need a bit before answering. ]
Post-Return Hook Ups
Nothing that an assassin would use. But if The Iron Bull wished him dead he wouldn't need knives.
Twice more he had paced the room before settling back against the wall, anticipation and anxiety winding the knot in his gut tighter and tighter till he felt he could be sick with it.
The rush of relief when Bull ambles up and closes the door behind him is almost staggering. He isn't sure for a moment if he's lightheaded in truth or it's his imagination, it's enough for him to need a bit before answering. ]
Of course.