....don't know. [Defensiveness makes him feel the way he did when he was seven. Eight. Ten. Still too brusque for his own good— but now it's only pooling underneath the surface of his delivery, tender in the way that anything sincere would be under pressure: what makes diamonds also makes for bruises, and he doesn't feel ironclad from this experience. He feels— he feels close and awkward, flush beneath his collar in a way that signals sweat despite it being almost winter, with talk of christmas gifts already on the way (the courtesans beg and fawn beforehand, always ready to flaunt their clientele's cumulative generosity. Astarion gets socks and a week without work; Fenris gets custard cake and a chance to sleep in for a change. Neither are jewels from a maharaja, but Zevlor and Kanan at least know how to be consistent in exchange for a trove of hand-drawn cards). His fingers squeeze a little, deflecting for a moment while he thinks.
He can't look at Fenris (but he can feel his every breath, fluttering like his pulse). Each time he tries, his eyes reel themselves back down towards the floor.
He doesn't know why. It's not the first time they've ever been this close.
Just the first time they've ever been like this.]
You've gotten better at leading, I suppose.
[Three years ago it would've been you got better at leading.
no subject
....don't know. [Defensiveness makes him feel the way he did when he was seven. Eight. Ten. Still too brusque for his own good— but now it's only pooling underneath the surface of his delivery, tender in the way that anything sincere would be under pressure: what makes diamonds also makes for bruises, and he doesn't feel ironclad from this experience. He feels— he feels close and awkward, flush beneath his collar in a way that signals sweat despite it being almost winter, with talk of christmas gifts already on the way (the courtesans beg and fawn beforehand, always ready to flaunt their clientele's cumulative generosity. Astarion gets socks and a week without work; Fenris gets custard cake and a chance to sleep in for a change. Neither are jewels from a maharaja, but Zevlor and Kanan at least know how to be consistent in exchange for a trove of hand-drawn cards). His fingers squeeze a little, deflecting for a moment while he thinks.
He can't look at Fenris (but he can feel his every breath, fluttering like his pulse). Each time he tries, his eyes reel themselves back down towards the floor.
He doesn't know why. It's not the first time they've ever been this close.
Just the first time they've ever been like this.]
You've gotten better at leading, I suppose.
[Three years ago it would've been you got better at leading.
They're both learning.]
Must be why Elise likes you.