[One of her little friends does gasp at that: a tell for that slight on how swiftly houses rise and fall, and one that's swiftly hushed by the rest of the group. But it's another point scored, and Leto doesn't bother to bite back his own smirk.
'Actually,' Arlynn says, staring sharply between the two of them, 'that's exactly why we came over. We're off to a party at the Vanthampur estates— he's a nobleman,' she adds patronizingly to Astarion. 'But we need a chaperone, my father says. So—']
I am not available.
[He answers swiftly, though for sake of employment, he tries to keep his tone from utter flatness.
'You're not busy,' Arlynn counters with another little glance at Astarion. 'I know you aren't. Anyway, I thought you might say that. But Father says he'll pay you a day's salary per every hour you accompany us. Maybe even double that, if I say you did a good job.'
And that— that isn't fair. It isn't fair because to make three hundred gold coins an hour will set them up for the rest of the year; it isn't fair because they are poor enough that such an offer does make Leto hesitate, albeit momentarily. One hand tightens on Astarion's hip, his expression conflicted for all of a second—
Before it hardens.]
My answer is still no.
[Oh, it's sore to give that up. It's so hard, but it's worth it for the elf next to him. You are worth more than that, you are worth more than anything, and she is, she is, and no amount of money will change that.
There's a teetering moment where Arlynn clearly tries to decide if she can order Leto into it before realizing it isn't worth the effort. With a scoffing little laugh, she rolls her eyes. 'Fine,' she says, all that sweet prettiness gone from her tone. 'Have it your way. But don't forget you're paid to make me happy— and whether or not you get any kind of bonus is up to me. Oh: and I want you at the mansion at seven tomorrow. I have plans.']
Fine.
[It's cold, now. Cold and sullen, his expression flat as he watches flounce off. It's stupid to be riled by such a child, but it reminds him too much of Hadriana and her ilk— and gods, but he has never liked being ordered around.
But there are better things to focus on.
With a sharp exhale, Leto turns back to his mate, his hands tentative as they slip into her cloak and glide along her torso.]
Idiot. But she need not trouble us anymore. And you . . .
[Oh, her. Beautiful and soft and seductive, and Leto's eyes soften by measures as he drinks her in once more.]
You deserve all my attention, pretty thing that you are. Clever thing, to come out so far and see me. And to wear these . . .
[He catches one hand, his thumb stroking over familiar clawed gauntlets.]
They suit you.
Perhaps we'll trade outfits before the night is done, for it has been a long, long time since I used these on you.
no subject
'Actually,' Arlynn says, staring sharply between the two of them, 'that's exactly why we came over. We're off to a party at the Vanthampur estates— he's a nobleman,' she adds patronizingly to Astarion. 'But we need a chaperone, my father says. So—']
I am not available.
[He answers swiftly, though for sake of employment, he tries to keep his tone from utter flatness.
'You're not busy,' Arlynn counters with another little glance at Astarion. 'I know you aren't. Anyway, I thought you might say that. But Father says he'll pay you a day's salary per every hour you accompany us. Maybe even double that, if I say you did a good job.'
And that— that isn't fair. It isn't fair because to make three hundred gold coins an hour will set them up for the rest of the year; it isn't fair because they are poor enough that such an offer does make Leto hesitate, albeit momentarily. One hand tightens on Astarion's hip, his expression conflicted for all of a second—
Before it hardens.]
My answer is still no.
[Oh, it's sore to give that up. It's so hard, but it's worth it for the elf next to him. You are worth more than that, you are worth more than anything, and she is, she is, and no amount of money will change that.
There's a teetering moment where Arlynn clearly tries to decide if she can order Leto into it before realizing it isn't worth the effort. With a scoffing little laugh, she rolls her eyes. 'Fine,' she says, all that sweet prettiness gone from her tone. 'Have it your way. But don't forget you're paid to make me happy— and whether or not you get any kind of bonus is up to me. Oh: and I want you at the mansion at seven tomorrow. I have plans.']
Fine.
[It's cold, now. Cold and sullen, his expression flat as he watches flounce off. It's stupid to be riled by such a child, but it reminds him too much of Hadriana and her ilk— and gods, but he has never liked being ordered around.
But there are better things to focus on.
With a sharp exhale, Leto turns back to his mate, his hands tentative as they slip into her cloak and glide along her torso.]
Idiot. But she need not trouble us anymore. And you . . .
[Oh, her. Beautiful and soft and seductive, and Leto's eyes soften by measures as he drinks her in once more.]
You deserve all my attention, pretty thing that you are. Clever thing, to come out so far and see me. And to wear these . . .
[He catches one hand, his thumb stroking over familiar clawed gauntlets.]
They suit you.
Perhaps we'll trade outfits before the night is done, for it has been a long, long time since I used these on you.