Alistair knocks him with his hip in revenge for the skepticism, but he's smiling, even though his chest aches in a way it hasn't since he was an initiate in the abbey, waiting on the edge of the training field while everyone else was picked before him. Not love, nothing noble, just stupid self-involved hunger for something out of reach. He can ignore it.
"You should teach me the dance you did with Comtess Mourier," he says, stepping away and pulling Zevran along, away from the wall, unfurling like a tapestry—or. "Or," he says, because he's being selfish, if not transparent. He leans sideways to look over the edge of the balcony. "It isn't far. If we climb down and sneak around to the gates you might not have to talk to anyone else."
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Date: 2016-07-13 01:08 am (UTC)"You should teach me the dance you did with Comtess Mourier," he says, stepping away and pulling Zevran along, away from the wall, unfurling like a tapestry—or. "Or," he says, because he's being selfish, if not transparent. He leans sideways to look over the edge of the balcony. "It isn't far. If we climb down and sneak around to the gates you might not have to talk to anyone else."