Entreri scoffs. Jarlaxle likes to pamper his pets, it seems. The magic shirts, the nice hats... And these quaint little snacks. Entreri continues to chafe at it, because the day he doesn't anymore will be the day he loses. And in the world these two men live in, the day you lose is the day you die.

Entreri has operated this way since childhood. Aligning with powerful patrons and "allies" enough to advance in the world but never giving up that last sliver of autonomy he holds clutched most tightly in his fist. Jarlaxle understands, because he's done the same.

Entreri inspects one of the seemingly innocuous little chocolate beans between his fingers and finally pops it into his mouth. He makes a face.

"Must be," said Entreri, very very flatly.

Honestly he was starting to wonder if creating an absolute mess of things was the surest route to a Jarlaxle victory. Whenever the powerful had the rug pulled out from under them, it always seemed to be Jarlaxle who found his feet again first. So why not go pulling a few rugs?

It was an infuriating trait, but admittedly useful.

A window burst not far from their heads, showering glass onto the street.

They weren't in trouble in the sense that they were in any real danger, considering their skillsets. But they were in trouble in the sense that today had suddenly become a much more annoying day.

"No."

Entreri: Yeah... I've been thinking about what you've been saying... I think maybe... I might be ready...

Jarlaxle: Good. I am going to install you as a puppet king.

Entreri was indeed not surprised, never one to be caught unawares (especially where Jarlaxle was concerned). He was also not particularly fussed about the kiss, but he did narrow his eyes in suspicion, catching Jarlaxle's grin with a sideways look.

"You're in a good mood," he said dryly, which basically translated to What are you up to?

He suspected Jarlaxle wanted something in particular here. Everyone in the world simply existed to be sweetly strung along Jarlaxle's little wires, it seemed.

It perhaps should have been more alarming that Entreri didn't mind that much. Going along with Jarlaxle's whims was just what he did these days. Perhaps a small part of himself even liked it, though this was a part he wasn't likely to acknowledge nor indulge in. That would be stupid, and the one thing Entreri wouldn't be was stupid.

That same part of him even liked the kiss, unfortunately. It existed with the rest of his not-stupid self in an odd and precarious balance -- a kiss can be allowed, Jarlaxle's whims can be followed, at least for now. At least until it's time to bail before he gets himself killed. Whenever that happens.

He will bail when that time comes. It would be supremely ridiculous to die for the sake of kisses.

"We were never married."

"No."