[ Bastien can’t just drop his sulk in an instant. It’s a matter of pride. But it does begin to thaw. ]
You have to stop calling me cute, [ to find something else to hang that sulk on, while he crouches to pet the wet dog, ] when I’m forty.
Until then it’s fine.
[ Sober, he’d be more cautious about presuming out loud that Byerly will be calling him anything in three years. Or maybe he wouldn’t be anymore, after swallowing the sun.
In any case, he’s fully thawed by now. ]
Why don’t you think the Maker will take you? [ He takes a guess and argues with it unprompted: ] Andraste’s army—they must have hurt all kinds of people, for the cause.
no subject
You have to stop calling me cute, [ to find something else to hang that sulk on, while he crouches to pet the wet dog, ] when I’m forty.
Until then it’s fine.
[ Sober, he’d be more cautious about presuming out loud that Byerly will be calling him anything in three years. Or maybe he wouldn’t be anymore, after swallowing the sun.
In any case, he’s fully thawed by now. ]
Why don’t you think the Maker will take you? [ He takes a guess and argues with it unprompted: ] Andraste’s army—they must have hurt all kinds of people, for the cause.