[ Bastien smiles wider—touched, not amused—and nods a little. The reality of the situation is seeping in. Byerly didn’t bring him to a neutral location to put him off gently, embarrassed he took advantage of an obvious crush. He’s asking, and he’s uncertain, and he dressed up.

He keeps the hope smothered. It’s still stupid. But he doesn’t have it in him to keep letting Byerly sit there while he tries to decide what he can bear, so he says, ]

It meant something to me. [ This sounds casual, too, mostly, but it’s a close call. He looks down at his drink to make it easier. ] If we keep on, it will mean something to me.

[ It’s partly fear that keeps him talking, instead of leaving that there on the table in need of an answer, but mostly fair play. Recompense. Vulnerability for vulnerability. It’s a lot to give away, but he’s sure Byerly must already suspect, on some level, to think that Alexandrie would make a difference. ]

So, ah. Can I think about it? You, too. I’m sure you thought about it before you called me, Monsieur le Cercle Vicieux, but Alexandrie isn’t here, and you’re anxious. When things have settled, maybe you will find that is as much Orlesian as one Fereldan can handle.