“Shh,” Alistair says, this time shorter and more insistent, but whatever thread of understanding he believes he’s on the verge of grasping slithers through his metaphorical fingers and out of metaphorical sight. His next exhale is more of a sigh. He sits down without paying attention to where, really—what’s a Loghain?—and looks back down at the scribbled notes in his hands. “What is it?”
The chart is a mess. Anders has no idea what it's saying to Alistair, though he has a guess as to what it's supposed to be getting at. At this rate he could add drawings of his cats and it wouldn't change any of the chaos. Speaking of, is that a duck? No. It's got to be a poor representation of whatever it's supposed to be.
"Have you considered that a nap might aid your... vision?"
"Yes. That was how I managed my fifth escape attempt. The Templars thought I couldn't see where I was going so they just stared as I ran away, took them hours to recover from their dumbstruck awe."
There's no real success chance in just trying to take the notes from Alistair, so Anders frowns at him instead, wishing he had the face to master Wynne's frown. A moment later he kicks Alistair's ankle lightly.
"Metaphorical vision, Alistair. I know Templars struggle with big words but you've not been a Templar for ages. I have faith in your capabilities."
He doesn't quite laugh, because he's only half paying attention, but he does make a heh noise at the story, and find it in himself to say, "I was never a Templar."
He is very polite and does not mention that Alistair is doing what it seems the other Templars are doing and that is running around trying to die of overtiredness. The Rifters seem to be doing it too, but Alistair is absolutely not a Rifter.
"There you are, then. Metaphor shouldn't trip you up at all. Unlike exhaustion will soon, because you're likely to crash hard and I'd prefer it to not be into a desk corner."
"I'm fine, Anders," Alistair says, utterly undeterred, and, seeing something in his notes, slides back off the desk to cross the room and add another line to the map he's ruining. "Appreciate... the concern..." (distracted, while the line is being drawn) "—but you've done your healerly duty, nothing's your fault. You can go."
Maker's breath. But he's not going to tie the man down, so he'll have to try later. Anders gets off the desk with a sigh.
"In case you've not heard, everything is my fault, so I'll be back in a few hours to check on you again. Or," and he pauses for dramatic effect, "I'll ask Teren to come up here because you're ignoring your health. Maybe both."
And with the semi-threat made, Anders heads for the door.
"Grreat," Alistair drawls, because neither of those options sound fun, but whatever. He's on a mission, and he isn't going to invite Anders to stay and continue interrupting it.
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"Have you considered that a nap might aid your... vision?"
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He doesn't look up from the notes.
"That's a neat trick."
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There's no real success chance in just trying to take the notes from Alistair, so Anders frowns at him instead, wishing he had the face to master Wynne's frown. A moment later he kicks Alistair's ankle lightly.
"Metaphorical vision, Alistair. I know Templars struggle with big words but you've not been a Templar for ages. I have faith in your capabilities."
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"There you are, then. Metaphor shouldn't trip you up at all. Unlike exhaustion will soon, because you're likely to crash hard and I'd prefer it to not be into a desk corner."
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"In case you've not heard, everything is my fault, so I'll be back in a few hours to check on you again. Or," and he pauses for dramatic effect, "I'll ask Teren to come up here because you're ignoring your health. Maybe both."
And with the semi-threat made, Anders heads for the door.
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