Cyril just lets that first part go. He understands why other elves might reject the idea that they are all One People, but that doesn't stop him from associating them as that way. His own tendency to do that, though, doesn't nullify the way that Zevran defines himself. When it comes to words or terms to use for Zevran, that matters more than Cyril's thoughts or opinions. He files the fact that Zevran doesn't want to be grouped that way for later but focuses instead on the other subject.
"I can see what you mean." He thinks this is getting to be too serious and his chest hurts from worrying about Merrick. Instead of trying to harp on that, he defaults to saying something suggestive. "I'd only want to be put in a cage if I knew I could say a word and be let out again."
"Mmm. A pity I have no such cage on hand. Rope and leather, now..." He trails off with a chuckle, lacing his fingers before him. "That I have in spades. Though there was this one brothel in Antiva City that actually had padded cages for such use- molded to the form of a writhing body. Being in one of those? Ah. Exquisite torture."
"If I had a hoist and a hook and quite a bit of time? I could likely manage to rig one out of rope- something to suspend you and hold you immobile throughout the lovemaking process." Now that would be a project. Managing that somewhere with enough privacy? Difficult. Challenging. But not impossible.
Cyril chuckles a bit. "Find me once you have it set up, we'll see if we're both still up for using it."
For now, he still feels too wary to try and take Zevran up on any offers. It's important that the offer for the future is still there though.
"I think I've said everything I needed to for today, and you have a bite mark to tend to. Did you need anything else for that, by the way? I can try to make sure your tended to."
"Perhaps a kiss?" He offers with a half smile, extending a hand. "Truly? No. The poultice and snow will see to it. I have suffered worse at the hands of my own traps. But you..."
How does he say this?
"It is...difficult on you as well, his troubles, his fits." For that is what it had been, a fit. How many times had he stepped in to do much the same for Taliesin in his youth, when his jealous rages would get the better of him? "Soothing him afterward. Playing the peacemaker. Begging patience and forgiveness for him. Is there anything I might do to ease that particular burden?"
Cyril isn't sure how to respond to that at first. If it had been a human, he would have been irritated by the offer, but Zevran, despite him saying he isn't one of the People, still has pointed ears.
"I'm fine," he says, but it's not as short or tart as it could have been.
In truth, he doesn't feel entirely comfortable sharing any more details than that. At least not yet.
He doesn't take the hand either, but it's less an outright denial as still being a little wary. He isn't sure how Zevran will take to being shot down like that.
"A liar knows a liar when he sees them, tesoro." He murmurs, but says no more, letting his hand fall back to his side. It is not his place to pry- no more than it is his place to ask at all.
But an offer has been made and in that, he can rest easy knowing he made the attempt. Anything more is Cyril's to choose.
He would be lying even more if he said that he didn't have the desire to come close and kiss the uninjured side of Zevran's face as a farewell, but he doesn't. He steps back, about to leave.
"Maybe that's why I still like you," he says instead.
"And why I am so terribly fond of you." He blows Cyril a kiss before he turns to leave, his own attention returning to the intricate trap laid out on the table.
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"I can see what you mean." He thinks this is getting to be too serious and his chest hurts from worrying about Merrick. Instead of trying to harp on that, he defaults to saying something suggestive. "I'd only want to be put in a cage if I knew I could say a word and be let out again."
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He's pretty much going to be distracted by that for a while now, thanks Zev.
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For now, he still feels too wary to try and take Zevran up on any offers. It's important that the offer for the future is still there though.
"I think I've said everything I needed to for today, and you have a bite mark to tend to. Did you need anything else for that, by the way? I can try to make sure your tended to."
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How does he say this?
"It is...difficult on you as well, his troubles, his fits." For that is what it had been, a fit. How many times had he stepped in to do much the same for Taliesin in his youth, when his jealous rages would get the better of him? "Soothing him afterward. Playing the peacemaker. Begging patience and forgiveness for him. Is there anything I might do to ease that particular burden?"
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"I'm fine," he says, but it's not as short or tart as it could have been.
In truth, he doesn't feel entirely comfortable sharing any more details than that. At least not yet.
He doesn't take the hand either, but it's less an outright denial as still being a little wary. He isn't sure how Zevran will take to being shot down like that.
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But an offer has been made and in that, he can rest easy knowing he made the attempt. Anything more is Cyril's to choose.
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"Maybe that's why I still like you," he says instead.
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