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[unshut]

(crystal | written | action)

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[bouchonne]

[ With approval: ]

A sensible man, then.

[unshut]

Not in the slightest.

[bouchonne]

No? Was he fanciful?

[unshut]

The very picture, I'm afraid.

[bouchonne]

That must have driven you mad, my practical-minded beauty.

[unshut]

Much to my own disappointment, I apparently have a fondness for the type.

[This, punctuated with the appropriate sidelong glance as she settles back against her pillows and the headboard.]

[bouchonne]

[ He flutters his eyelashes at her. ]

And I, a weakness for the squarely unromantic.

[unshut]

Oh? [A look of surprise punctuates the tip of her head.] Who is this mysterious unromantic individual who has you so charmed, Ambassador?

[bouchonne]

Someone who is also very beautiful. And clever.

[unshut]

Good for you. You should have some diversion from your work. [Lacing her long fingers together over her middle, she lowers her voice by a half degree.] It's giving you wrinkles, Messere.

[bouchonne]

It is not.

[unshut]

I'm afraid so. There's a little mark just there on your brow. You've been frowning.

[bouchonne]

I'm incapable of frowning. I'm a very mirthful man.

[unshut]

And yet, that mark. Not to worry, Ambassador; wear a few more lines like that one and you might eventually look quite respectable.

[Her smile curves.]

Which I only say because I know how much you enjoy to be told terrible things about yourself.

[bouchonne]

[ He's already pulling a face. ]

Ugh. Call me a cad. Call me a scoundrel. Don't call me respectable.

[unshut]

[She laughs. The sound is low, pleasant despite its rasping underbelly. Turning the knife, then:]

But you're doing such a fine job of pretending, Messere.

[bouchonne]

I am not. My reputation is just as rotten as it ever was.

[unshut]

Oh, certainly publically you are no gentleman. But privately? [A cluck of the tongue, an evaluating look; she unlaces one of her small fingers to tap on the glove remaining in her lap.] I've seen very little proof of it myself. And I'll have you know that I have made inquiries.

[bouchonne]

Oh, not with the right people, then. Don't you recall how I had my wedding at a house of very ill repute?

[unshut]

Then perhaps you might supply me with the right names; I like to think of myself as a dab hand when it comes to turning over stones, and yet—.

[bouchonne]

The fallen women who make up many of my acquaintances, perhaps?

[unshut]

Oh, please. As if you can spend so much as a month in Kirkwall without becoming so acquainted; I had a lovely conversation with a particular Madame Haxton from that house of Cooperstreet just the other day. A wily card player - she wore a silver pin with a moth in her hair. Be wary, should you cross her at the tables.

[bouchonne]

Is that so?

[ He grins at her. ]

I thank you for your warning. - Well, fine, then; what of my debtors back in Denerim?

[unshut]

Oh, debt. [Something sparks in her eye.] You know how I enjoy a bit of lending. You must tell me every detail.

[bouchonne]

Oh, my. Do you want to become my debtor, madame?