indissection: (Default)
sidony venaras. ([personal profile] indissection) wrote2011-09-29 09:20 pm

inbox,


crystal • notes • drop in • etc!
esquive: ([ 001 ])

[personal profile] esquive 2019-04-09 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
For a split second, it's like he might argue with her. He goes sharp and bristling, some shifting behind the curl of his beard indicating the suspicious set of his jaw. Then he gives, the cotton-wrapped quality of the pain-and-liquor-and-Andraste-knows-what-else smothering his protests.

"If you say so." This still in Trade, sound clipped and brusque in a way the Orlesian doesn't. One handed, he reaches for his sword where it's leaned against the table. Stands abruptly and bangs the table edge with the beautiful hilt of the lovely sword as he tries to grab both it and keep his balance.

A moment. He forces himself to steady.

There. It's fine.

"Will you need to see it again?"
esquive: ([ 001 ])

[personal profile] esquive 2019-04-09 10:51 pm (UTC)(link)
"Easily done." More easily done than hooking the rapier back at his belt is presently, so he doesn't both with that one. Just tucks it clumsily under his arm, then gathers the little packet she's prepared for him and takes that too. He stays there for a few seconds longer, hip set firmly against the table's edge like the hard line of it will do some good to ground him more firmly. Then--

"Thank you. I'm sure it will be fine."

And then, with a great fumbling and jangling of small metal pieces and the thump of his sheathed sword against the clinic's door frame, he's gone. Seems that much - breezing in and out, gone almost as instantly in the way he'd first stumbled into the clinic, bottle in hand - remains habitual.