[ To an outsider it might look like Bastien has a sixth sense for when Byerly's had a rough day or three, the way he shows up now with his cello, snacks, and a steaming mug of something to share. But actually it is just that he does this frequently. Doing it tonight is even intended selfishly: the weather has been gray and miserable, the sort that normally threatens to make him feel weighed down by everything, and this will cheer him up.
So the particular angles and expressions he observes in Byerly when he slips through the door were not, in fact, expected. But he doesn't pause. He only locks the door behind him when he might otherwise have left it open—who wouldn't want to hear them play, or perhaps even come in to say hello and maybe join in—and approaches with less determinedly cheerful breeziness than he might have otherwise. ]
Bonsoir, mon étoile.
[ The snacks he's brought are a plate of various cheese cuts and crusty bread carried in from a Fereldan establishment in Lowtown. Despite his best attempts at shielding them, the downpour of rain outside has left them a little damp on top. He sets the plate on the desk, and he entertains a two-second fantasy of setting it on fire. ]
me too me too
So the particular angles and expressions he observes in Byerly when he slips through the door were not, in fact, expected. But he doesn't pause. He only locks the door behind him when he might otherwise have left it open—who wouldn't want to hear them play, or perhaps even come in to say hello and maybe join in—and approaches with less determinedly cheerful breeziness than he might have otherwise. ]
Bonsoir, mon étoile.
[ The snacks he's brought are a plate of various cheese cuts and crusty bread carried in from a Fereldan establishment in Lowtown. Despite his best attempts at shielding them, the downpour of rain outside has left them a little damp on top. He sets the plate on the desk, and he entertains a two-second fantasy of setting it on fire. ]