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[cozen]

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[bouchonne]

Salut.

[cozen]

Saaalut.

[ Sing-song, but not too chipper. ]

Are you saying hello or a delayed goodbye?

[bouchonne]

That was the delayed goodbye. And now have a salut of greeting.

[ Playful, but a little subdued. Which, given what happened, is probably an appropriate tone. ]

[cozen]

Oh, well then. Salut.

[ Flirty this time. But still not too chipper. ]

Are you alright?

[bouchonne]

Yes.

[ No playing coy, no whatever-do-you-means. Rare for Byerly. ]

I'm sorry, Bastien. I didn't know it was going to turn into that.

[cozen]

It’s—thank you, it’s kind of you to apologize, but it’s fine. It’s not your fault.

Alexandrie called a minute ago, and I told her, too: it would be rarer if we could do something like that without a problem. Even if everyone wasn’t already upset.

[bouchonne]

I suppose so. But I should have anticipated that.

[cozen]

A Fereldan spy, navigating international intrigue and his personal relationships with the help of a magical ring that lets him see an hour into the future... That has potential.

[ Somewhat more seriously, ]

I should have known better than to come, too. I just really wanted to see you and it made me stupid.

[bouchonne]

[ A little humorless ha, even though Bastien really is letting Byerly off the hook far too generously. By knows Alexandrie, knows that she's prone to jealousy. He should have known that it wouldn't just be okay.

But: ]

And I wanted to...know that you both were all right. And to have you close. Very greedy of me.

[ A little sigh. ]

I hope it was merely awkward, rather than outright upsetting.

[cozen]

No, no, it was...

[ Fine, he was going to say again. He catches himself. Not quite a lie, but close enough he steps back from it. ]

I might be a little jealous, too, I think. Not territorial, not like that, but—it seems so much bigger and louder, with the two of you. And the way she focuses, like she has to remind herself anyone else is there. I can’t do that. The only time I am not thinking of everyone who can see me and what they must think and what I should say and what I should be doing with my hands and my face—I only stop when I’m alone, and sometimes when I’m alone with you. If someone else can see, I can’t. I hope that doesn’t mean I don’t love you enough.

[ —steps back from fine and into a puddle of honesty a little deeper than he expected. And sending crystals are convenient, but he also hates them. They’re only a little bit better than letters, so far as being able to gauge reactions goes.

So he makes a quasi-laugh sort of noise, self-deprecating in its awkwardness, and jokes— ]

See what you get when you worry about my feelings? That’ll teach you.

[bouchonne]

Yes, I'm well-taught.

[ It's an awkward little joke as well, because all of that is - well, it's a lot. A hell of a lot more than what he usually gets from Bastien. But he likes it. It's intimate and honest and therefore really special. But what's he going to say, oh, Bastien, I treasure your feelings of discomfort, and the way that you've had paranoia and mistrust drilled into you from childhood? So he just tries to communicate the fact that he is fond, and warm, and touched, through tone of voice alone. And he hopes that works. ]

Lexie is - like an ocean. Like a tempest. And I love a storm. But I also love the deep woods on a quiet day.

[ Is that a helpful metaphor? Maker, his poetry really is terrible. So he goes for honesty instead: ]

I think I've noticed it. When you stop worrying about performing. It's subtle, but I think I've seen it.

[cozen]

[ It’s a particularly comforting metaphor to give to a fellow who struggles to see the appeal of storms, except on a distant theoretical level that allows for other people to go out and love them if they want to, that’s fine, write him a poem to read about it afterwards, but in the meantime he’ll be as indoors as possible, maybe with his head under a pillow, thanks.

Between that and Byerly’s tone, he smiles, and the fear shrinks, and he’s quiet for a moment just to feel it.

Then: ]

Is it when I drool in my sleep? Because, actually, that is on purpose. [ It’s not. ] It’s meant to be endearing. I don’t even do it naturally. I have to work up a big mouthful of spit before I fall asleep so it can leak out overnight.

[bouchonne]

Ha.

[ He smiles slightly to himself. ]

You must take me for a rank amateur, to think I'd be fooled by fake drooling. I saw through you the moment you started to dribble.

[cozen]

Augh. Foiled again.

[ He puts his arms on his desk in front of the crystal, puts his head on his arms, and closes his eyes. ]

Are you sure you’re alright? Not just with Alexandrie. Those were some shitty dreams.

[bouchonne]

[ A moment, and then a breath out. ]

Is there any choice, but to be all right?

[cozen]

Sure. There’s, uh... being angry at the world for being so fucking relentless you can’t even be left alone when you are asleep. You could throw things, if you choose that one.

You could shut down emotionally for the foreseeable future. That option is not my favorite, though.

You could lose your mind with fear for the future and run away to Gwaren with me after all. That one I like a little more.

Or you could pretend for everyone who needs it, since you are important, and then come over here and let me rub your back and talk to me about it.

[bouchonne]

[ Well. That's all - extremely sensible. Actually. ]

I do like having my back rubbed.

[cozen]

You see, that is very convenient for me, because I like rubbing it.

Whenever you have some time. Even if it’s late. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.

[bouchonne]

Will you promise that you'll let me rub your back, too?

[cozen]

[ He sighs a sigh of great hardship. ]

If you must. And if you promise not to tell me how you know when I’m not performing. I don’t want to know how to fake it.

[bouchonne]

[ That is - unexpectedly charming. And strangely moving. ]

My lips will stay sealed.

[ And later that night - quite late, really - there will be a knock on Bastien's door. ]

[cozen]

[ After a short delay the door cracks open enough to confirm who’s knocking, then wider. On the other side, the room is dimly fire-lit and Bastien is wearing a blanket like a cloak against the cold. ]

After-hours entry fee, [ he whispers, tapping his own cheek and angling it up to be kissed. ]

[bouchonne]

[ And Byerly leans down and licks Bastien's cheek. It's very wet. ]

[cozen]

[ He laughs first, fake swoons second, with a backwards stumble that leaves room for Byerly to come in. ]

Unparalleled kissers, you Fereldans, I have always said.

[ Quiet, since the door is open, but he closes and locks it once Byerly is past the threshold and stops whispering while he herds him toward the bed. ]

You are banished from our office, by the way. I forgot to tell you.

[bouchonne]

[ Ah. His step slows just a touch so that he can eye Bastien, trying to determine the tenor of this exile. ]

Is the peace that fragile?