[ That's a go for caught in a moment, with Alistair not so unsurprised or blasé about her presence that he can both ask a nonchalant question and remember to come in out of the rain at the same time. He stands at the entrance instead, flap in one hand and cloth-wrapped bundle (it's food, it's always food) in the other, and it rains on his head. His hair is beginning to rebel against its backward slick.
He's too tired to be angry. Too frustrated with Warden secrecy on the whole. And it helps that it's her.
He doesn't actually make her answer the question. ]
We recruit them, [ he says, and belatedly steps inside. The bundle in his arms—bread, dark and rough-grained, slightly damp beneath the cloth—he sets next to the candle. ] I hope you like blue.
[ At the first sound of the tent flap opening, Sabine flicks a look that way without actually raising her head, still and poised, and then relaxing just a little when it works out to be Alistair. It'd probably have been more trouble than it was worth if it had been someone else. She staightens up a little as he steps inside, but doesn't concede the prime spot at the table just yet.
Her fingers fan out, the tips at the edges of faded parchment. The food gets a sideways glance. ]
I like blue, [ she says, ] but I would make a shit Warden. Marching orders. Camping. [ She gestures at the scrolls in front of her. ] Reading maps.
Teachable skills, [ he assures her. As if in demonstration for the life she'll now be leading as a Warden-Recruit, he reaches over her arm to tap his ring finger against a line on the map in front of her. (He's still wearing her beady thing. She is welcome not to care.) ] It's Orlais. It doesn't look like anything familiar because it's the Deep Roads. That dark part is the Abyssal Rift. Adamant Fortress would be about... here. Griffon Wing Keep somewhere up there.
[ He transitions from vague and dismissive finger-flicking in a northwesterly direction to more tapping, this time where the map is blank save a symbol. ]
[ Hazel eyes roll as he persists, but focus and narrow as he begins to make sense of the maps anyway. Settling on the location of terrible Warden secrets, save for one minor flicking glance. (She notices, anyway -- jury is out on whether that constitutes caring.) ]
Ah, is there where you keep them.
[ She tries to orient these lines and markers with what she remembers Orlais maps to look like, head tipping. ]
[ He grins at her unruffled comment, quick and briefly boyish and utterly wasted, what with her attention being on the map. His joins it. ]
Not if we do our jobs. [ He pauses to consider his options—and her skill level. ] That's where they thought they would take their demon army. One of the old gods is imprisoned there. And now I really have to recruit you.
[ That gets a look. A little hard to read. The old gods is something of a scary bedtime story, but Sabine has ever been the kind to have liked them at their scariest, and there is a glint of hard intrigue in her study of Alistair's face and the words coming out of it. Her mouth pinches at more talk of recruitment, another look tipped at him that probably articulates that someone will get kicked somewhere sensitive before any such thing will be happening.
She turns, leaning a hip against the table, reaching to inspect the food he brought in beneath its rained on cloth. ]
I can keep a secret, [ she says, a comical half-step from coy. ] Are you leaving?
[ He's still looking at the map, hand raised and curled in the air in front of his throat. Thoughtful. He spares a glance sideways and unfurls his fingers to wiggle a suggestion that she help herself to the bread, but not to suggest that she eat it all, or else they will have to fight. ]
We aren't going to bother it. We only need to make sure that no one else does, for now. They're grouchy, you know, when you wake them up. [ Alistair turns toward her. Smiles. Look how charming he is, look how fun it would be to spend a while underground with him. ] Want to come along?
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action.
[ That's a go for caught in a moment, with Alistair not so unsurprised or blasé about her presence that he can both ask a nonchalant question and remember to come in out of the rain at the same time. He stands at the entrance instead, flap in one hand and cloth-wrapped bundle (it's food, it's always food) in the other, and it rains on his head. His hair is beginning to rebel against its backward slick.
He's too tired to be angry. Too frustrated with Warden secrecy on the whole. And it helps that it's her.
He doesn't actually make her answer the question. ]
We recruit them, [ he says, and belatedly steps inside. The bundle in his arms—bread, dark and rough-grained, slightly damp beneath the cloth—he sets next to the candle. ] I hope you like blue.
action.
Her fingers fan out, the tips at the edges of faded parchment. The food gets a sideways glance. ]
I like blue, [ she says, ] but I would make a shit Warden. Marching orders. Camping. [ She gestures at the scrolls in front of her. ] Reading maps.
action.
[ He transitions from vague and dismissive finger-flicking in a northwesterly direction to more tapping, this time where the map is blank save a symbol. ]
Terrible Warden secrets here.
action.
Ah, is there where you keep them.
[ She tries to orient these lines and markers with what she remembers Orlais maps to look like, head tipping. ]
Let me guess. The end of the world?
action.
Not if we do our jobs. [ He pauses to consider his options—and her skill level. ] That's where they thought they would take their demon army. One of the old gods is imprisoned there. And now I really have to recruit you.
action.
She turns, leaning a hip against the table, reaching to inspect the food he brought in beneath its rained on cloth. ]
I can keep a secret, [ she says, a comical half-step from coy. ] Are you leaving?
action.
[ He's still looking at the map, hand raised and curled in the air in front of his throat. Thoughtful. He spares a glance sideways and unfurls his fingers to wiggle a suggestion that she help herself to the bread, but not to suggest that she eat it all, or else they will have to fight. ]
We aren't going to bother it. We only need to make sure that no one else does, for now. They're grouchy, you know, when you wake them up. [ Alistair turns toward her. Smiles. Look how charming he is, look how fun it would be to spend a while underground with him. ] Want to come along?