[Good. He has suspected as much, but the confirmation allows something in him to exhale. He's better than he was, but there is ever a part of Leto still grimacing at himself, remembering how foolish he has been with his lover's limitations before. Nothing has happened, nothing has ever happened, but still: Leto would never forgive himself if his own idiocy led to Astarion getting hurt.
But all is as it should be, and Leto's steps are a little lighter as he bounds his way down streets and alleys. Most don't notice him, or if they do, it's just long enough to earn a bewildered remark (is that a bloody dog?). It will take quite a while to make it halfway across the city, but he's making good time.]
You enjoy the shaking.
[It's a retort with no meaning, offered up as they head forward. He's moving as fast as he can, but there's few things that attract more attention than the gleam of gold— and though no one has made a move just yet, Leto can hear the murmurs of surprise and interest around him. Better, he thinks, to avoid detection by wandering deeper into the hidden alleys and half-forgotten byways of the city, trotting past derelict slums and bars that take the phrase hole-in-the-wall quite literally.
It works right up until it doesn't: when he finds himself frustratingly boxed into place by a petty squabble just up the street. Two drunken idiots are fighting over something with two members of the Flaming Fist trying to separate them— but one of them conjured a few devilkin, and now it's an all-out fight. And while Leto could risk sneaking past them, he doubts he wouldn't be spotted (or worse, singed).
So he hides them both behind a stack of boxes and heaves a doggish sigh, impatient as he settles in.]
no subject
But all is as it should be, and Leto's steps are a little lighter as he bounds his way down streets and alleys. Most don't notice him, or if they do, it's just long enough to earn a bewildered remark (is that a bloody dog?). It will take quite a while to make it halfway across the city, but he's making good time.]
You enjoy the shaking.
[It's a retort with no meaning, offered up as they head forward. He's moving as fast as he can, but there's few things that attract more attention than the gleam of gold— and though no one has made a move just yet, Leto can hear the murmurs of surprise and interest around him. Better, he thinks, to avoid detection by wandering deeper into the hidden alleys and half-forgotten byways of the city, trotting past derelict slums and bars that take the phrase hole-in-the-wall quite literally.
It works right up until it doesn't: when he finds himself frustratingly boxed into place by a petty squabble just up the street. Two drunken idiots are fighting over something with two members of the Flaming Fist trying to separate them— but one of them conjured a few devilkin, and now it's an all-out fight. And while Leto could risk sneaking past them, he doubts he wouldn't be spotted (or worse, singed).
So he hides them both behind a stack of boxes and heaves a doggish sigh, impatient as he settles in.]