Alas, there is a distinct lack of sneaky witch thieves in the bog. Or handsome chantry boys for me to oogle. Or disapproving old women to tease about their bosom.
I don't think you're looking hard enough. Or you need to be more flexible. Try looking for a disapproving Chantry thief or a handsome, sneaky old woman.
We could get you a puppy. [ Surely being a veteran of the Fifth Blight is worth a puppy. And in the meantime: ] I'll play with you. I've seen bogs. They're all the same.
I already have one. He's a lovely shade of copper and has a fondness for cheese. [ It does earn Alistair a faint crackle of laughter. ] Ah, well then. I spy something that starts with...B.
He is housebroken and everything- or at least he was when I left him. [ This is much better than walking alone and bored. ] No, it is not a bog. But it is in the bog.
[ File under: excuses to think about Alistair in a collar. ]
Ha. Try it.
Boat? Or—if it's buttocks, I'm going to be very—
[ Not surprised. Not particularly disappointed, either. In addition to being better than silent trudging, this is much better than listening to Old Gods try to lull him underground. ]
[ Bastard Prince of Fereldan and Commander of the few sane Wardens left- and he is sleeping on hay. This will not stand. Zevran looses an intensely disappointed sigh. ]
If you promise not to lick anything or drink anything you find- the rather warm room with a somewhat proper bed is empty at the moment. Someone may as well be using it.
Over the crystal
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[ Because pitiful whining is the best way to convince someone he isn't a puppy. ]
Bog? Do you see a bog? You can't use the whole bog, Zevran, that's boring.
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Is iiiiiiit. A bullfrog?
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[ Now that was a pitiful image, staked down just out of reach of cheese. ]
Alas, no, not a bullfrog.
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Ha. Try it.
Boat? Or—if it's buttocks, I'm going to be very—
[ Not surprised. Not particularly disappointed, either. In addition to being better than silent trudging, this is much better than listening to Old Gods try to lull him underground. ]
—something.
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[ Mmm. Alistair in a leash. ]
Not a boat, and not buttocks. Everyone is wearing their cloaks, it is hard to see. I must use my imagination for those.
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I'm sure your imagination is better than what they're hiding. Hmm—buttons? Blood?
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[ Dying makes a lot of things worth it. ]
Close on the last, but no.
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Blood...y noses? Blood brothers? Oh, blood lotus.
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[ And on that day who will he hide behind, if Alistair is too dead to tank? ]
Ha. I win. Now I spy--something that begins with H.
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[ He sighs, half fond and half weary. Learning the truth of that had been...well. Difficult. ]
Hmm. Could it be Hay?
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[ And--Maker. ]
Nnnno.
[ It was totally hay. He doesn't sound very convincing. But there are three other things in this stable that start with an H, so there. ]
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[ If only he could pass it along to the Warden. ]
...You are still a terrible liar, my friend. Please tell me you are not seriously sleeping in the stables.
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[ And here's the rustly shift of someone who is definitely lying in hay.]
I never seriously do anything.
[ Of course he does. But let him have his joke. ]
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[ Bastard Prince of Fereldan and Commander of the few sane Wardens left- and he is sleeping on hay. This will not stand. Zevran looses an intensely disappointed sigh. ]
If you promise not to lick anything or drink anything you find- the rather warm room with a somewhat proper bed is empty at the moment. Someone may as well be using it.
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