[ If the 200+ year old vampire with a thirst for human blood is doubtful about raising the stakes on this game of chicken and duelling big talk, his casual acceptance conceals it with the utmost aplomb. Well then. He's still coming like the koolaid man blasting through every opportunity to take an out—not an ounce of surrender. A summons to contest against Mat's available moves, another square of space on a board eaten up.
Consequently, the always somewhat hyper-nervous human who, not long ago, would've claimed zero interest in looking out for the welfare of his soft, supple neck or in puffed-up popinjays, is made to pause and realize—has he talked him into talking himself into talking the other into a date? All signs point to: it seems... so?
Some might make of this a sign and an off-ramp to second thoughts' disengagement, but there's a particular point of no return for people of his stock and jerky-dry crust. A one-directional cattle chute triggering in the hindbrain so the only possible means of walking backward the laws of physical will allow is doing so while facing the Creator and all the gods. One way to go and that's onward and upward.
A gamble, then, as much as a game board. A toss of the dice, no way of telling how they'll fall. ]
All right, then. Consider me asking. Would you care to take a spin with me sometime, Astarion?
[ As well it seems he might have been snagged on a point of contradiction, greedy infatuation and its antithesis in freewheeling unconstraint, but in someone with shades of covetous and addictive layered into the whole, who has had nothing to keep or covet, the two aren't mutually exclusive. One should be avoided in favor of the other, that's just a matter of sense. ]
I could be mad jealous of whoever catches your eye but I'm not fool enough to think I could keep it.
[ A pause, then in consideration of where they started and where they've got off to, a sprig more parsing: ]
If it were that, those sorts of things are better said plainly. I'd lay it out like it is, and I'd hope you'd do the same. False hopes about what you're getting and having are what bring on the sore feelings.
no subject
Consequently, the always somewhat hyper-nervous human who, not long ago, would've claimed zero interest in looking out for the welfare of his soft, supple neck or in puffed-up popinjays, is made to pause and realize—has he talked him into talking himself into talking the other into a date? All signs point to: it seems... so?
Some might make of this a sign and an off-ramp to second thoughts' disengagement, but there's a particular point of no return for people of his stock and jerky-dry crust. A one-directional cattle chute triggering in the hindbrain so the only possible means of walking backward the laws of physical will allow is doing so while facing the Creator and all the gods. One way to go and that's onward and upward.
A gamble, then, as much as a game board. A toss of the dice, no way of telling how they'll fall. ]
All right, then. Consider me asking. Would you care to take a spin with me sometime, Astarion?
[ As well it seems he might have been snagged on a point of contradiction, greedy infatuation and its antithesis in freewheeling unconstraint, but in someone with shades of covetous and addictive layered into the whole, who has had nothing to keep or covet, the two aren't mutually exclusive. One should be avoided in favor of the other, that's just a matter of sense. ]
I could be mad jealous of whoever catches your eye but I'm not fool enough to think I could keep it.
[ A pause, then in consideration of where they started and where they've got off to, a sprig more parsing: ]
If it were that, those sorts of things are better said plainly. I'd lay it out like it is, and I'd hope you'd do the same. False hopes about what you're getting and having are what bring on the sore feelings.