TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

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[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, you're scoring now? Whatever will the winner take?" Astarion asks, batting his eyelashes at Jacob.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Winner gets to pick what we do next," Jacob tells him, searching through the trees as they walk. "But I'm the one who gets to decide the scores, so your chances aren't looking good."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion sighs, deeply put-upon.

"You're terribly lucky I like you so much, Jacob."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, I know. And we've managed to be together a while, huh?"

He spots a bird and draws the string back, resting it against his cheek as he waits for his moment.

When the bird stretches its wings to fly off, he lets the arrow go, right through the trees. It sails by a little low, brushing through the feathers.

"Fuck..."

[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?"