[ An odd tangle of feeling, at that. Mostly good, but if he were to pull it apart there would be threads of defiance. Not belonging to anyone has always been a matter of pride for him, not lonely regret. Threads of some species of shame, as well, like he’s turned his nose up at a common food for a long time, mocked people who enjoyed it, and has now had a bite and discovered it’s delicious.

But there’s a purring sort of pleasure, too. An odd relief.

And most of all he is drunk, and he is drowsy, and he is practical, and he knows offhand that it’s no little thing for Byerly to deny Ferelden something it might want from him. Bastien lets the mostly-good tangle remain untangled and only nods his agreement. ]

I will have to do something with myself besides lie around gazing at you, but—I’ll figure it out. [ He rubs his fist down By’s spine, knuckles bumping on vertebrae. ] If they aren't good to you, they can't have you, either. You can tell them I said so.