[ It's pleasant — even in the relatively short while they've known each other, Matt has proven himself surprisingly adept at knowing how to direct a conversation, at least when it's just been the two of them. There are things Astarion doesn't really want to talk about, even if he's begun giving morsels away; here, for instance, he offers up one grim detail without really wanting to give away more, and Matt steers gracefully away.
It makes it easier to laugh when Matt fails to commit to a particular scent profile, when the lilt of his voice begins to betray a little tipsiness. This feels normal, at least in the context of their circumstances — no invisible axe hanging over them, no strings attached. His pace slows a little as they reach the lake — the bodies discovered in it had hardly been its fault, after all — admiring the moon's reflection in the water. ]
Give me one note to start on, [ he says by way of protest, the words carried on the tail end of a laugh. ] Floral, sweet, smoky — one word, and I'll take it from there.
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It makes it easier to laugh when Matt fails to commit to a particular scent profile, when the lilt of his voice begins to betray a little tipsiness. This feels normal, at least in the context of their circumstances — no invisible axe hanging over them, no strings attached. His pace slows a little as they reach the lake — the bodies discovered in it had hardly been its fault, after all — admiring the moon's reflection in the water. ]
Give me one note to start on, [ he says by way of protest, the words carried on the tail end of a laugh. ] Floral, sweet, smoky — one word, and I'll take it from there.