[He huffs a laugh, more in acquiesce of that silent desire than anything truly related to humor. (In truth, he does not like it when Astarion refers to himself as a whore, save in bedsport— but it is what it is, and he will not scold solely out of his own discomfort). Leto stretches his legs out, kicking off the hated boots so he can sink his toes into the cool grass.]
You're still alive, are you no— ah . . . well, you may have a point there.
[You know, because he's a vampire? Undead? Get it? Ah, humor.
And they linger there for a time. Catching one another up on their respective days (or nights), little incidents and jokes offered up easy as anything. It's gentle, and as much a way to move on from the emotion of that moment as it is simple exchange.
But eventually, they quiet down. And Leto murmurs:
I'm glad you asked. About if I was worried or distrusted you . . .
I am glad to confirm the opposite. And I am glad, too, you trust me enough to ask.
[Admittedly, he says it a bit stiltedly. Emotions are hard, and articulating them harder still. But he is glad Astarion asked, for no other reason than to assure him.]
no subject
You're still alive, are you no— ah . . . well, you may have a point there.
[You know, because he's a vampire? Undead? Get it? Ah, humor.
And they linger there for a time. Catching one another up on their respective days (or nights), little incidents and jokes offered up easy as anything. It's gentle, and as much a way to move on from the emotion of that moment as it is simple exchange.
But eventually, they quiet down. And Leto murmurs:
I'm glad you asked. About if I was worried or distrusted you . . .
I am glad to confirm the opposite. And I am glad, too, you trust me enough to ask.
[Admittedly, he says it a bit stiltedly. Emotions are hard, and articulating them harder still. But he is glad Astarion asked, for no other reason than to assure him.]