Alistair hums agreeably at that first part—of course Zevran isn't worried about himself, surely he's concerned about the Inquisition, the trust he needs people to put in him, the story that's being peddled—but the agreeableness evaporates as Zevran goes on. Partly. He still sounds mostly friendly when he says, "I don't give a blighted nug butt—" Yes, he said that. On purpose. Cheer up, go on. "—about my name, Zev."
Even if the world weren't falling apart. He briefly, wildly considers dipping Zevran sideways and kissing him on the mouth to prove the point, but the idea sticks uncomfortably in his chest, a lot like the feeling he gets when something he can't sense makes a noise in the dark, before it can be turned into action.
"I'm only thinking of that poor Qunari's heart. The Bull. That one."
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Date: 2016-07-01 11:00 pm (UTC)Even if the world weren't falling apart. He briefly, wildly considers dipping Zevran sideways and kissing him on the mouth to prove the point, but the idea sticks uncomfortably in his chest, a lot like the feeling he gets when something he can't sense makes a noise in the dark, before it can be turned into action.
"I'm only thinking of that poor Qunari's heart. The Bull. That one."