[ Advantages in tactical experience and the full 360 degree view of both pursued and pursuer, possibly, if not luck. One of them hasn't been pursued in his entire blighted life; it's enough to have him walking in circles under his own perplexed steam looking behind him, trying to figure out what's nipping at his tail.
With every question dodged on the other end, he seems a step closer to feeling out the outer boundaries to the other's teases, like being blindfolded in a completely dark room and left to map out an unknown shape with hands out. He's been pushing those boundaries on purpose—waiting for fissures of impatience to breach an act, as he can say with confidence he's more used to people wanting something they're beating around the bush to get to, when the princess sweeps in with her best charming smile seeking favours and appeals to his vanity.
Instead of terms, Astarion dangles loose threads—curious loose threads he wants to tug on to see where they go. If he would just kindly stop handing out motive, imagine the time saved writing each other off, but no! ]
Will he go dancing with me?
[ This hypothetical sharp-toothed somebody, whatever he's into roleplaying in the bedroom, no judgment.
Now that sharp tongue, though... ]
No, no, no—I wouldn't dream of holding you back, is all. Far be it for me to get in the way if you have a taste and a type for curvy women, say.
[ Speaking of what's known to draw Mat's attention in a crowded tavern. ]
slaps coffin, this bad boy can fit so much suffering
With every question dodged on the other end, he seems a step closer to feeling out the outer boundaries to the other's teases, like being blindfolded in a completely dark room and left to map out an unknown shape with hands out. He's been pushing those boundaries on purpose—waiting for fissures of impatience to breach an act, as he can say with confidence he's more used to people wanting something they're beating around the bush to get to, when the princess sweeps in with her best charming smile seeking favours and appeals to his vanity.
Instead of terms, Astarion dangles loose threads—curious loose threads he wants to tug on to see where they go. If he would just kindly stop handing out motive, imagine the time saved writing each other off, but no! ]
Will he go dancing with me?
[ This hypothetical sharp-toothed somebody, whatever he's into roleplaying in the bedroom, no judgment.
Now that sharp tongue, though... ]
No, no, no—I wouldn't dream of holding you back, is all. Far be it for me to get in the way if you have a taste and a type for curvy women, say.
[ Speaking of what's known to draw Mat's attention in a crowded tavern. ]