TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[sixfeetofdirt]

The remark hits him somewhere so unexpected that he doesn't even tease Jacob for missing the shot.

"...we have been, haven't we? Together."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He drops his arm, looking over at him.

"Yeah. Is that - a surprise to you?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion looks away, uncharacteristically flustered.

"I. I don't know. A little? I've never - I mean, not in the sense that it's been called something."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Huh. "I guess. That alright?"

He continues to walk under the pretense of looking for his next target.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"...No. That is - it's more than just 'alright'," he decides. "I like it. Calling it something."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, me too."

He slings an arm around Astarion's shoulders. "I just know you seem skittish about that kind of stuff."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Skittish?" Astarion scoffs, but he's leaning into him. "You make me sound like a stray cat, Jacob."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Nah, you aren't a stray anymore. You're like Aylin...if she lived on the streets a while. Now she's got someone. Couple of someones," he explains, holding firm to him.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Rosita's compared me to a cat, too. In the sense that I'm particular about who I'm pleasant to," he adds, "not the biting."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, well, I don't actually mind the biting," he says with a laugh. "So - together, huh?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Yes. I don't know if there's another word I'd want to use," Astarion says. "But I like this. Being - together, with you."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Good, now did you see that great shot? It went right through that bird's wing, just like I wanted," he snickers.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, just like you wanted?" Astarion says slyly. "How would you score yourself, then?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Perfect score."

He spreads his hands out, gesturing in front of them. "Ten out of ten."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, so you win?" he drawls. "How shocking. I shall have to bring a referee next time."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Why?" he wonders innocently. "You don't trust my scoring?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"My answer is completely dependent on what you claim to do with what you've won," Astarion replies, equally innocent.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Hm."

He kicks up a few leaves as he walks. "Well, I didn't think I'd win. But I was thinking maybe you help me find some nice clothes to add to my closet."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"You hardly needed to win that from me," Astarion laughs softly, and squeezes his arm. "I'd be happy to."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Good. You want to take a few more shots first?"

He takes his arm down. "You know...in case you need the practice?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It's good to stay exercised," Astarion agrees. "A few more each?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Sure. Want to chase some again? I made sure to put in plenty of stupid quail flocks."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"So thoughtful," Astarion chuckles. "Would you like to try some arrows from Faerun?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah. Let me see?"

He holds out a hand for one. "Did you make these?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"No, no. At home, I'd just buy them."

Astarion draws an arrow which has a pointed loop at its tip.

"An Arrow of Many Targets. It strikes its first quarry, then a further three close by."