[ Coincidence and/or luck and/or conniving have given them the heated communal bathing pool to themselves for the moment. Maybe only for the moment, so Bastien’s a respectable hanky-panky-proof distance away from Byerly—but not so far that he can’t sink lower into the water on his stone step seat, stretch out his leg, and prod a scar (any scar) with his toe. ]
[ It's tempting to grab that toe and use it to tow Bastien just a little bit closer. But he's being good. He's being professional. He's dedicated to not shocking and appalling the good people of Riftwatch with his passionate behavior. ]
Heroics, if you can credit it. Real heroics. Battlefield heroics.
Terrible. And honestly just... incredibly unattractive if you.
[ His face says the opposite, while his ungrabbed toe retreats so he can sit straight again, but after that moment it’s tinged with a more serious curiosity. ]
[ Another time, he might grin and run a suave hand through his hair in deliberate misunderstanding. But that other time he wouldn't already be busy looking at By, silent and still and focused while he considers the smile and the parry and the possibilities. Avoiding a traumatic memory, something sincerely horrible. Being bashful about bravery. Feeling not so much flattered as pressured to be that specific kind of brave.
It only lasts a couple seconds, though, and then Bastien smiles and tries not to be a dodgy hypocrite. ]
There was a mage in the house, when I was younger. He was very good at correcting mistakes. You can still sort of tell, if you know where—
[ He looks speculatively at his own torso, which aside from the hair is very smooth, with the pale or dark patches of old wounds invisible without sunlight and a very close look. But then he points toward his hip and thigh, obscured by the water. ]
That one was after he was gone. It's how I found out I was mortal.
[ Bastien’s eyes narrow above his smile—unfair, the narrowing says, in a very affectionate tone—but he answers. ]
I was stabbed. And I fell off a balcony. And then the wound was infected. But mostly I was stabbed.
[ He flicks at the surface of the water. Not hard enough to land any droplets in Byerly’s face, at this distance, but the suggestion of the intent is there, along with an arch sort of bashfulness. Ten years ago it was a real embarrassment. Now it’s funny. Mostly. ]
[ Bastien laughs and gives it a try: the first two lines of Apotheosis, sweetly sung, with as many sounds as possible twisted the wrong way. ]
—no, [ he cuts himself off with. ] No, I was there to retrieve blackmail on her Revered Mother. Using her to get inside at night. I had it coming. I just prefer not to get what I deserve, you know?
[ A hypothetical question, but after he’s asked it he thinks perhaps Byerly doesn’t know. ]
[ Bastien snorts quietly at the compliment, but it’s more laugh than derision, and he doesn’t argue. Even if it’s only love talking—no, especially if it’s only love talking—he’ll take it.
Anyway. ]
Le sens charnel. Yes.
[ It’s relatively new, to feel a little ashamed of himself over it. He watches Byerly—who’s done the same, who tangled and tripped in trying to be sure it bore no resemblance to what he’s doing with Alexandrie. He thinks of what he could try say to make it sound more palatable, if he wanted Byerly to think better of him instead of to know him. Blame the Game. Shift the light and the angles to make twenty-one more child than adult. He didn’t know how else to be. He had to eat. She was older, she reached first— ]
Or, well, [ is what he says instead, ] I am not sure now. The way she turned, she might have known all along. But I believed I was taking advantage while I did it. That is what matters, don’t you think?
[ It's hard to tell. His manner is always so playful, even in moments of unhappiness. But he seems like there's some ineffable sort of strain in Bastien's good humor. ]
[ Among other things. Another word might serve better. But kind is the word Byerly used—you've remained kind, a hero's labor—and the good opinion it feels like he's jeopardizing. ]
[ By tilts his head in consideration. Not in judgment. Maker, no; he knows that he has absolutely no room to judge anyone, least of all on this matter. He has spent a lifetime engaging in unkindnesses - and not just after he became a spy, either. He survived his early days by seducing and abandoning. Including seducing and abandoning some genuine, kindhearted people who really deserved better. ]
[ Bastien smiles—genuinely, already buoyed most of the way out of that little dip in his mood, just by the fact that Byerly doesn’t seem unsettled. ]
Maybe as a hobby. Gathering secrets to resolve feuds. Sneaking into parties to make sure everyone was having a good time. Orlais would have to be a very different place for it to be profitable, but it would be fun.
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