Alistair pushes Zevran's hand away, mildly embarrassed but smiling. "Mm, snoufleur." Delicious. Maybe he'll make Sera sit on his feet and make him do curls for bites. She likes him well enough—
On cue, he blushes.
But he doesn't sputter, doesn't roll his eyes. He shakes his head instead, smile slipping and going crooked like it's barely managing to hang onto his face—exasperated, but shy, too, and furious with his own feelings—and nudges Zevran's foot with his foot before brushing past him to crawl into the bedroll. "I'm cold," he announces on the way to excuse his own abruptness. It's rare. He doesn't like it.
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Date: 2016-07-10 08:02 am (UTC)On cue, he blushes.
But he doesn't sputter, doesn't roll his eyes. He shakes his head instead, smile slipping and going crooked like it's barely managing to hang onto his face—exasperated, but shy, too, and furious with his own feelings—and nudges Zevran's foot with his foot before brushing past him to crawl into the bedroll. "I'm cold," he announces on the way to excuse his own abruptness. It's rare. He doesn't like it.