#faerus

astarion regards wyll as calmly as he can, given the theatrical heroics. he's been earnestly trying to figure wyll's mindset out and just as he thinks he's begun to make some headway, it's not even the tip of the iceberg and wyll has surprised him again. didn't they just save the bloody tieflings at the grove?! in for a penny, in for a fucking pound. wyll seems to have infinite patience, a well of empathy for the plight of others but astarion doesn't have that same capacity within himself. astarion glowers, a palpable sulk on his features as he heaves a sigh, hands on his hips. "well, i suppose we wouldn't be going out of our way or anything," he drawls, reluctantly fond. "by the gods, there's not an ounce of self-preservation within you, is there? those tieflings are just going to get captured again or fall to the shadow curse, you know. but, your noxious optimism is infectious." if they were lucky, and everything went according to plan they may meet them again in baldur's gate. wyll was a natural born leader, a hero, and astarion is .. a liability in comparison. he was simply not a details person. astarion tries to compose himself, a quick checklist of all the things they needed to do within his head -- kill ketheric thorm, free the prisoners, take the fight to cazador, defeat the absolute. no problem. was he allowed to feel a bit overwhelmed? "if you think it's possible, i'll trust your judgement, but i don't like it. tell me, do you intend to carry on with your orphan kissing, kitten rescuing antics once we get to the city?"

he blinks, mouth curving into a nonplussed pout. it takes a moment for what wyll is saying to register, admist the raucous noise of bardsong and meade flowing freely. then astarion's gaze settles on halsin's broad frame next to karlach's equally statuesque figure, and the situation dawns on him, as does a shit-eating grin. astarion gives wyll a once-over that's appraising, but not sexual in nature. "why, wyll. i had no idea you had the appetite for this kind of talk. what do you imagine he's saying to her? no doubt preaching gospel about the beauty of nature and it's many bountiful gifts?"

silver brows raised with curiosity, as did the goblet of wine to his lips. he had anticipated that wyll would be more of the prudish, always righteous type -- but it seemed the blade knew how to relax and let loose when the time was right. astarion took one last glance at karlach and halsin, huffing a little laugh. "ambitious indeed."

wyll has had more dealings with devils than astarion has, so he wants to let him take the reins here, but he's not sure appealing to mol's better nature is the right play when raphael has likely already sunk his claws into her. as far as pitiful orphans go, normally astarion can't be bothered but he does admire mol's business acumen, and she hardly has a chip on her shoulder about things. but gods, really, how often does the wretch need saving? from two mal-adjusted pseudo father-figures, at that. from what he recalls, mol isn't easily persuaded. "ah, ah. mol, if you'll excuse us for just a moment. we need a sidebar." he flashes a tight toothy grin at mol before wrapping a hand around wyll's elbow, escorting him away behind the bar for a moment of privacy. "wyll, darling, i know you probably think honesty is the best approach but let's think about who we're dealing with here. we might need to fight fire with fire, or ah, subterfuge with subterfuge. the child is deadset on selling her soul to the devil. and i think there's little we can do to do convince her otherwise." he raises a pale brow, a duplicitious little smile tugging at his lips. "unless, of course, we find out what she wants with the devil and make her a better offer." the little brat is vulnerable, defenseless -- she could only want two things, protection or power. with power comes responsibility and all that tired drivel, but also protection and whilst they can't offer her more power than raphael could as a potential patron, maybe if mol felt protected she wouldn't go to such lengths. but astarion thinks he'll leave the words of affirmation and reassurance to wyll, as it seems more within his wheelhouse. he scoffs, brows drawn in frustration. "scheming i can handle, but meddling for the greater good? ugh. i'll allow you to take the lead, if it's all the same to you."

 just  when  teddy  is  beginning  to  bore  of  the  confines  placed  upon  him  by  his  court,  especially  with  his  most  recent  indiscretions,  there’s  been  a  new  face  appearing  in  his  proximity  with  increasing  frequency,  and  teddy  is  merely  curious  about  the  other  man.  he  himself  is  dressed  in  no  less  than  three  layers  of  clothing,  his  double-breasted  tailcoat  that  hugged  his  broad  shoulders  restricively  --  something  he’s  complained  about  but  has  yet  to  have  tended  to,  with  a  starched  and  buttoned  shirt  obstructing  any  view  of  his  neck.  his  companion  wasn’t  dressed  much  more  comfortably,  and  in  fact,  far  more  peculiarly.  he  clears  his  throat,  folding  his  arms  against  his  chest.  “being  called  boorish  is  a  compliment  where  you  reside?  strange..  but  i  don’t  dislike  it.  in  that  case,  you  are  most  welcome,“  teddy  tells  him,  raising  a  brow  quizzically  as  his  lips  lift  with  an  amused  smirk.  

 “you  and  i  are  one  in  the  same,  then.  i  am  often  reprimanded  for  my  uncouth  manner  of  speaking,  especially  in  mixed  company,”  he  confesses,  a  soft  sigh  escaping  parted  lips.  he  redirects  his  downtrodden  gaze  up  towards  the  towering  man,  studying  his  features  intently  for  a  moment  --  perhaps  longer  than  appropriate.  “i  apologize,  i’m  ..  quite  poor  with  names  and  faces,  but  i  recall  yours  was  somewhat  unusual  when  we  were  first  introduced.  todrick?  ah,  no  ..  hobkirk?”  teddy’s  brows  crease  with  worry,  feeling  like  he’s  nearly  hitting  the  mark  but  not  quite.   not  only  was  his  memory  poor,  his  constitution  was  as  well,  and  perhaps  there  was  a  correlation  between  the  two.

 he  tugs  his  lip  between  his  teeth,  trying  to  hide  his  frustration  about  his  lack  of  recollection  about  this  one  significant  detail.  but  despite  his  upbringing  and  teachings,  teddy  himself  has  never  been  one  to  sweat  the  small  things.  "i  mean  not  to  insult  you...  have  you  been  yet  to  see  the  rose  garden  on  our  estate?  if  you  feel  so  inclined,  i'd  like  to  show  you."