[ Still light, however seriously he means it; he'll save the serious tones and solemn puppy eyes for when one or both of them is dying instead of maybe-probably-living. ]
What? You were terrifying. [ False. ] Still are. [ Less false. But Alistair isn't terrified, no. Alistair is drumming his fingers cheerfully on Zevran's bare shoulder blade. ] I'll be sleeping with one eye open.
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[ Still light, however seriously he means it; he'll save the serious tones and solemn puppy eyes for when one or both of them is dying instead of maybe-probably-living. ]
What? You were terrifying. [ False. ] Still are. [ Less false. But Alistair isn't terrified, no. Alistair is drumming his fingers cheerfully on Zevran's bare shoulder blade. ] I'll be sleeping with one eye open.
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[ He snorts, peeling himself away enough to fetch his needle and resume his work on that last line of his ribs- while still in Alistair's lap.
No homo. ]
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