He's not wounded. He's pleased and petted, which isn't Zevran's job right now—a thing Alistair realizes, after a moment, and he frees his hand from Zevran's neck and hair to recover Zevran's hand from his face and transfer it to his chest for safekeeping, weighted down by Alistair's palm.
"You know you're my favorite, too," he says. "Let me sleep for a little bit and I'll come with you to see what the Seeker wants. If you want."
no subject
He's not wounded. He's pleased and petted, which isn't Zevran's job right now—a thing Alistair realizes, after a moment, and he frees his hand from Zevran's neck and hair to recover Zevran's hand from his face and transfer it to his chest for safekeeping, weighted down by Alistair's palm.
"You know you're my favorite, too," he says. "Let me sleep for a little bit and I'll come with you to see what the Seeker wants. If you want."