(no subject)

[mind_overmatter]

Make that one ale, one water.

Comments

[mind_overmatter]

She doesn't blush when he asks. That'd be ridiculous. But she might hesitate, her face might grow a shade more open in surprise. She's been back-and-forth around Alastair enough since their beginning journey together that a lot of her instinctive guards are down with him. It's not unlike the feeling of being around her parents, or at the monastery.

Her legs, suspended in thin air as they are on the overly-tall barstools, swing for want of activity. But she's saved from answering because look who's decided to get sarcastic with her. "Yes, well I can see from your wardrobe that you've crumbled under a lot of societal pressures. You look like you're wearing half the towns you've visited."

He's quite a bespangled mess after so long away. She's not even re-familiarized himself with his current winter coat of baubles and potions and alchemical components. "Just watch that you don't fall off your stool with too many - although I suppose I'd do you the favor of carrying you upstairs. For old time's sake." Old times, as if. He'd accompanied her on her first-ever 'mission' of sorts. They go back far for her years, less for his, and practically nothing compared to what'll lie ahead if dragon-mouths can be avoided.