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[illithidnapped]

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[bouchonne]

Sabotaging my career and reputation. The bastards.

[ He clucks his tongue in a sound of deep offense. That is, of course, totally faked. But sometimes you love the drama.

He tosses one handkerchief so it lands on Astarion's head. Inevitably: it's perfumed. ]

Well, let it be known that I am the greatest talent in all of Kirkwall.

[illithidnapped]

[Astarion's silent when he pills the kerchief from his hair, curls tangled briefly in his own fingertips— quickly brushed back into place. Once done, he folds it neatly into his lap.]

Play for me, then.

[bouchonne]

I thought you'd never ask.

[ Is there anything more insufferable when a cocky asshole actually has the skills to back it up? That's the hell that Astarion is confronted with here: By pops up, dramatic mood disposed of, grinning wide, and grabs at a violin in a case not far from his desk. Bow to strings, and he begins to play a sprightly reel, and he's fantastic. Truly talented. ]

[illithidnapped]

[A cocky asshole without the skills to back it up, Astarion would argue. This, at least, is unexpectedly entertaining.

And it’s one of Astarion’s lesser known weaknesses, in fact. Good music. There was never anything so pleasant in Cazador’s care.

Here, now, he’s content to bask.]

Well.

Now I’m offended they didn’t invite you.

I’ve been deprived.

[bouchonne]

Too right you have.

[ By's smugness just grows with the assessment. He smirks at Astarion - fully smirks - and without missing a beat, switches over to a doleful, sorrowful melody on the violin. ]

So now I'm your favorite, right?

[illithidnapped]

Darling, you were always my favorite.

[Says local lying liar, news at 11.]

[bouchonne]

Is that so? And how many favorites do you have, in total?

[illithidnapped]

[Casually, already checking his own nails.]

...I've lost count.

[bouchonne]

Ugh.

[ He flops his head back in mock-agony. ]

You could have restored my soul.

[illithidnapped]

Now why in the Realms would I want to do a thing like that?

If you felt better about yourself, you wouldn't want to waste your time sitting around with me.

[And that, Byerly, would be a tragedy.]

[bouchonne]

[ A snort. ]

He says, like he doesn't know how beautiful and charming he is.

[illithidnapped]

And insufferable. You’re forgetting that part.

[bouchonne]

Oh, am I? Define "insufferable" for me.

[illithidnapped]

Tall, talkative, possessed of a uniquely striking brow line and perfectly managed features, excellent taste in wine—

[bouchonne]

You're describing me!

[illithidnapped]

Nonsense, I'm—

[A beat, all feigned realization.]

Mm. Actually, on second thought...

[bouchonne]

You scamp.

[ By grins, turning his head in a precise way so that his eyes sparkle in the light. ]

Well, my definition of insufferable is: talkative, possessed of perfect alabaster skin and hair a fellow could swoon over, excellent taste in wine. So.

[illithidnapped]

[Perfect indeed. You've got him preening now, Byerly, look what you've done.]

Now you're just being rude, charming me like this.

[He taps his thumb against the edge of his empty glass— sets it down across the edge of Byerly's desk.]

But all teasing aside, I wouldn't worry too much if I were you.

[bouchonne]

[ By refills that glass. ]

Worry about what, being outshone by you? You're being too kind now.

[ Slightly less facetiously: ]

What fears should I still?

[illithidnapped]

For one, your fear that you won't be able to protect all of us with that wealth of wit.

Because you won't be able to. That's damned well impossible under the absolute best of circumstances, and I'm certain that's a truth you know just as well as I do.

[He eyes that refilled glass for a moment, weighing it before plucking it up once more.]

...but if you're lucky, and as moderately sharp as I suspect, you might be able to save some when it counts. More than what'd have panned out otherwise.

[bouchonne]

[ That hits harder than By would have expected. Twists at his heart. Which is stupid: this is exactly what he wanted Astarion to think, the campaign he's been waging. Even so, he flinches slightly, then renews his smile. ]

I do hope so, my dear.

[ He lifts his cup: ] And I expect the same of you.

[illithidnapped]

Oh don't. [Astarion hums back coyly, ignoring that toast in favor of drinking deep with purposeful determination. This time, when he puts it back down, he rises fully— heat already beginning to crawl its way up along his spine, the warmth of one too many drinks on an empty stomach.] You'll only be disappointed, if that's what you settle on.

I promise you, the moment things start to fall to pieces, you'll forget I was ever here.

And so will I.