"Ah." He brightens at that. This? This is something he can do! This is something he can teach, if Cade is willing to learn. Whether or not it will work to help him form real, lasting relationships...
Zevran frankly does not care. But something to make the problem less? All the better.
"That is easy enough. And- also- solved by talking to Alistair. If all you need is someone, anyone to like you? He is your man. He would like most anyone. He likes me, and I tried to kill him."
Cade doesn't find this entirely helpful, and this is clear by the dubious, still-strained look on his face. "...but he doesn't," he points out, "he's made that clear." He purses his lips and shakes his head. "...and I'm no good at talking." Perhaps except for now, but they have a certain established rapport in which this kind of thing is okay. Only here. Nowhere else. "I'm no good at any of it." He adds this in a way that is less self-pitying than simply stating a problem, as he hasn't the faintest idea of how to go about solving it.
"Normally I would say it is a simple thing to fix but very little of you two is simple." And again, why is this his problem. He stuck his nose in where he shouldn't, again, and it's made a mess, again, and he is attempting to clean it up by being...helpful.
Weighing this against how ten years ago he might've stabbed the man and move on, Zevran isn't entirely certain this is a sign of growth or softness. "The first thing you need to learn is not everyone actually wants to kill you- while also being aware that everyone probably could."
Wait that probably isn't helpful. "The average person does not default to murder." There! Better.
The stare Zevran receives isn't quite blank, but it is... certainly ambivalent. How exactly does one react to that sentiment? "Oh," he says benignly, then tilts his head a little. "...but they do... want me out of their presence, generally," he adds, with a near question mark at the end. If they just wanted him dead, it would be stressful, but probably would have come to fruition by now. Instead they just want him to go away.
"To be blunt: you are awkward. No one seems to know how to deal with you." Zevran does not know how to deal with him and has been managing on pure luck and guesswork thusfar. Eventually? It is going to bite him in the ass. But until that day- guesswork it is. "I know why you are timid and skittish- most people do not. Now I am not saying you ought to tell the whole world- but offering some grounds for understanding why you are the way you are might help. A bad mission, nightmares, a traumatic childhood accident-"
Which is the understatement of the century, truly. "Something like that.
Cade doesn't even try to argue here. He just nods lightly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. No one is as aware of his awkwardness as he is, impossible as that may seem.
"Won't that be like...." he ventures, "...excuses?"
"Yes. But it might help. It might not- honestly? I cannot remember exactly how I was taught to be personable as it was less something taught and more something I forced myself to become. If I was liked it was less likely I would be beaten." A normal upbringing the Crows did not exactly provide. "
A fully reasonable response, and even as someone who has always made himself as small as possible to avoid being disliked, Cade isn't without empathy. Or sense.
"...maybe you're right," he admits. After falling silent for a time, he timidly adds, "I'll try."
"What's the harm?" Well. Getting beaten is the harm but so long as it did not happen outside this room, all ought to be well. "Now, on to more pleasant things, yes? What have you been reading?"
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Zevran frankly does not care. But something to make the problem less? All the better.
"That is easy enough. And- also- solved by talking to Alistair. If all you need is someone, anyone to like you? He is your man. He would like most anyone. He likes me, and I tried to kill him."
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"...but he doesn't," he points out, "he's made that clear." He purses his lips and shakes his head. "...and I'm no good at talking." Perhaps except for now, but they have a certain established rapport in which this kind of thing is okay. Only here. Nowhere else.
"I'm no good at any of it." He adds this in a way that is less self-pitying than simply stating a problem, as he hasn't the faintest idea of how to go about solving it.
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Weighing this against how ten years ago he might've stabbed the man and move on, Zevran isn't entirely certain this is a sign of growth or softness. "The first thing you need to learn is not everyone actually wants to kill you- while also being aware that everyone probably could."
Wait that probably isn't helpful. "The average person does not default to murder." There! Better.
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"Oh," he says benignly, then tilts his head a little. "...but they do... want me out of their presence, generally," he adds, with a near question mark at the end. If they just wanted him dead, it would be stressful, but probably would have come to fruition by now. Instead they just want him to go away.
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Which is the understatement of the century, truly. "Something like that.
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"Won't that be like...." he ventures, "...excuses?"
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"...maybe you're right," he admits. After falling silent for a time, he timidly adds, "I'll try."
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Maker please save them from this awkward knot.