[But someone surely was, and who knows where that someone might be? It's the fifth time he's glanced around in about as many minutes, but Leto can't help it. A bit of mischief now and then he can tolerate, but stealing sherry? Stealing it and prying it open where anyone might catch them? Mm . . . Astarion's assured him that no one will care, but Leto isn't so sure. There's an awful lot you can do to get in trouble. Sometimes you don't even have to be doing anything. Sometimes standing is bad enough.
But this is not his home, and Mas— no, it's Zevlor, just Zevlor, but the thought of using his first name without a title makes Leto cringe— Master Zevlor has said before that it's fine. He hadn't looked particularly pleased about it, mind you, but still: he seems inclined to turn a blind eye to their antics.
(So far, some eternally wary part of him murmurs, but never mind that).]
You'd complain if it was warm. You did last time. Just don't drop it.
[Skeptically said, for he's half-sure Astarion is going to drop it anyway.]
What is it, anyway? Wine again?
[He had not liked the wine very much the last time they tried it— or, no, he had, right up until they'd ended up throwing up all night.]
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But this is not his home, and Mas— no, it's Zevlor, just Zevlor, but the thought of using his first name without a title makes Leto cringe— Master Zevlor has said before that it's fine. He hadn't looked particularly pleased about it, mind you, but still: he seems inclined to turn a blind eye to their antics.
(So far, some eternally wary part of him murmurs, but never mind that).]
You'd complain if it was warm. You did last time. Just don't drop it.
[Skeptically said, for he's half-sure Astarion is going to drop it anyway.]
What is it, anyway? Wine again?
[He had not liked the wine very much the last time they tried it— or, no, he had, right up until they'd ended up throwing up all night.]