[No, the alley is no place for a talk like this, Fenris thinks, and yet he brims with impatience every step of the way. The question of friend or foe seems obvious enough, at least (although old habits have him checking the shadows once they enter the abode— stupid, as if the ghost of Danarius might appear). But friend of what kind, that remains to be seen, and from where? Some ghost from Tevinter? It's not inconceivable that some slave remembers him, Fenris supposes, although even so— why here?
Why now?
He picks his way carefully through clutter, feet more deft than you'd expect from a warrior, and settles on a chair, one leg curling under him. He's quiet while the other man does whatever it is he has to, setting his things down or simply finding somewhere to settle— but sooner or later he speaks, his voice quiet.]
no subject
Why now?
He picks his way carefully through clutter, feet more deft than you'd expect from a warrior, and settles on a chair, one leg curling under him. He's quiet while the other man does whatever it is he has to, setting his things down or simply finding somewhere to settle— but sooner or later he speaks, his voice quiet.]
Will you not alleviate my suspense?