"You liked that I could be Zev." Not the Inquisitor, not the charmer. Just himself in all his flaws and strangeness. He wanted to be somewhere safe for him. Somewhere he did not have to worry half so much about how he was perceived. Gingerly, as though he could be anything but gentle with Alistair in this, Zevran slips a hand up to stroke his cheek. Trace the freckles there.

"It is one thing to want someone more than you love them. You...love me more than you want me, yes? You would have gone on quietly without saying a word until-" Until the calling.

Until this hand killed him.

Until he moved on with someone else, always keeping Alistair close but never giving everything that he could.