My eye or your throat. I was not going to let you take that blow. [ There's a slosh of brandy in the bottle, drinking, and a swallow. ] I did not even have to think about it. And I would do it again, no matter the cost.
[ He doesn't have to do that. But even if the lesson about bossiness is sort of learned (still sinking in), he stands by sunlight and fresh air being a good thing, so. Never mind. He's not going to tell him not to. ]
No, she is positively charming when she isn't gnawing on my boots. [ He snorts a laugh, glad to steal Alistair for a little while longer. Selfish man. ] Her fur is horrendous but it takes conditioning quite well. If only it did not grow in patches.
[ He doesn't sound any different than normal, anymore, except quieter, and a little bit like it's taking effort. He's fine; Zevran has been through a lot, and Zevran was lashing out, and Zevran didn't say anything that wasn't true. But his chest still hurts. ]
I won't be gone long. There are darkspawn here, so they need some of us—maybe a week. And I'll talk to you tomorrow.
[ It's difficult to forget every black, bitter word he'd hurled at Alistair hoping to gain a little breathing room. He'd done just that. Huzzah. ]
Of course. Be safe, yes? [ Here there should be a joke about dragging Alistair out of trouble, again, but- he can't. Things are still too wounded and he cannot quite swing a blade. ]
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Oh, I am. [ And so sad. ] But I'll be all right. You just—look after yourself.
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That is a foolish thought, the answer is yes. Zevran would know, he has done it. ]
...It was a lie- the last. Doghren is no mistake and...and I do not blame you for the eye. I was trying to get you to leave. Like an ass.
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[ That's a genuine heh, just. All the laughter he has the heart for right now. ]
It's all right if you blame me. It was my fault.
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[ That doesn't make it not his fault. ]
Look, I have to go—fight things. If you need anything you have Leliana and Morrigan there, right? And, um. Shale.
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Be careful.
[ He can't say the words. Why can't he say the words? He was more than an ass, he was a bastard, why can't he find the words? ]
...Call me when you are finished?
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[ Or— ]
Maybe tomorrow? I'm sharing a tent, you know, and I make enough noise as it is.
[ He could... not go in the tent...... but. ]
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[ A beat passes. ]
I'll- take a walk. During the day. Until you call.
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[ He doesn't have to do that. But even if the lesson about bossiness is sort of learned (still sinking in), he stands by sunlight and fresh air being a good thing, so. Never mind. He's not going to tell him not to. ]
I love you, all right? I'll talk to you tomorrow.
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You, too. [ And with a little slyness: ] Give Doghren a kiss for me.
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[ That is what the room is, now. Home. ]
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Both of these things can happen.
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[ Apparently he's temporarily forgotten about Fighting Things. ]
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[ He doesn't sound any different than normal, anymore, except quieter, and a little bit like it's taking effort. He's fine; Zevran has been through a lot, and Zevran was lashing out, and Zevran didn't say anything that wasn't true. But his chest still hurts. ]
I won't be gone long. There are darkspawn here, so they need some of us—maybe a week. And I'll talk to you tomorrow.
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[ It's difficult to forget every black, bitter word he'd hurled at Alistair hoping to gain a little breathing room. He'd done just that. Huzzah. ]
Of course. Be safe, yes? [ Here there should be a joke about dragging Alistair out of trouble, again, but- he can't. Things are still too wounded and he cannot quite swing a blade. ]
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[ So: sure, he will safely rush a crazed Templar without a weapon. ]
Don't drink that whole bottle.