[He tips the cup again, but doesn't take a drink--just watches the way the water sloshes around inside of it, swelling up toward the rim as he leans it one way, receding back into the depths when he leans it the other.]
Sounds like a good distraction. Something different than Kirkwall. The Gallows. I'm for it. Need any help, with your merchants?
No. [ An immediate answer, and then the pause for thought that maybe should have come first, faintly apologetic. ] Likely not. But I'll think about it.
[Darras snorts quietly, and tips his head back to settle against the arm of the sofa again.]
I don't want to be some pity invite. I'll meet you at the cottage. Get supplies, cook you dinner... give you something t' look forward to after Tevinter.
That sounds good. [ Yseult sets a hand on his ankle and rubs her thumb around the joint, watching him for a sign that she's hurt his feelings enough to require explanation. ] I've missed that.
Yeah. [--Darras says, and it isn't a question. He knows she has. And,] I've missed it too.
[He lets silence fall between them, turns the moment over it over in his mind. Comfortable, in the sunlight that falls in the window, with Yseult just there, just within reach.]
So who's going to be along with you, if not me?
[It's not a sulk or a challenge. A question, only.]
I'm meeting an Inquisition agent. They had someone there already who could do the initial surveillance.
[ She turns back to her reports, but her attention doesn't stick, and after a moment she sets the papers on the table at her elbow. It takes a twist and a push off the near arm to rearrange, but she turns onto her side and fits herself into the narrow space between Darras and the couch back, head on his chest.
[Surprised, first, and then pleased quickly after, Darras shifts over to make room for her. He barely has to. She fits herself in quite neatly, and quickly, leaving him to smile at her and--after a moment--lean down to kiss whatever bit of her he can manage at this angle--top of her head, hair, forehead, anything would be good.]
Not that I'm complaining about the attention, y'know--in fact I much prefer this--but I'll keep just as well, y'know. Maybe even better. Is it moths that eat paper? No danger of that for me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[He tips the cup again, but doesn't take a drink--just watches the way the water sloshes around inside of it, swelling up toward the rim as he leans it one way, receding back into the depths when he leans it the other.]
Sounds like a good distraction. Something different than Kirkwall. The Gallows. I'm for it. Need any help, with your merchants?
no subject
no subject
I don't want to be some pity invite. I'll meet you at the cottage. Get supplies, cook you dinner... give you something t' look forward to after Tevinter.
no subject
no subject
[He lets silence fall between them, turns the moment over it over in his mind. Comfortable, in the sunlight that falls in the window, with Yseult just there, just within reach.]
So who's going to be along with you, if not me?
[It's not a sulk or a challenge. A question, only.]
no subject
[ She turns back to her reports, but her attention doesn't stick, and after a moment she sets the papers on the table at her elbow. It takes a twist and a push off the near arm to rearrange, but she turns onto her side and fits herself into the narrow space between Darras and the couch back, head on his chest.
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Thought you were working.
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It will keep. Who knows about you.
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Not that I'm complaining about the attention, y'know--in fact I much prefer this--but I'll keep just as well, y'know. Maybe even better. Is it moths that eat paper? No danger of that for me.
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No, not from moths. But the paper's not in much danger of being kidnapped and killed.
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You don't know that. I could kidnap 'em.