[ Iorveth's laugh is more melodious than an instrument played by the world's finest bards. Astarion brushes a thumb over the outline of his eyepatch before leaning in to press their mouths together for a brief but enthusiastic kiss. Brief only because he'd rather not get kicked out for sticking his tongue down Iorveth's throat in the bestsellers section, and because he'd really rather be sticking his tongue down Iorveth's throat in the comfort of Gale's guest room instead. ]
Only because I don't trust Gale's books not to bite.
[ You know, like that enchanted chest. Horrible! He rifles through the rest of the section, picking out novels based primarily on title and how pretty their covers are. By the end of it, he's stacked several on top of the book he already gave to Iorveth. One looks to be a pirate story, another a revenge story—he'd thought Iorveth might like that one, at least—and the last, of course, the second entry in the Nicholas and Edgar series.
Although Iorveth is the one being forced to carry all of the hardbacks, he pats his pockets, his ill-gotten coin jingling inside. ]
no subject
Only because I don't trust Gale's books not to bite.
[ You know, like that enchanted chest. Horrible! He rifles through the rest of the section, picking out novels based primarily on title and how pretty their covers are. By the end of it, he's stacked several on top of the book he already gave to Iorveth. One looks to be a pirate story, another a revenge story—he'd thought Iorveth might like that one, at least—and the last, of course, the second entry in the Nicholas and Edgar series.
Although Iorveth is the one being forced to carry all of the hardbacks, he pats his pockets, his ill-gotten coin jingling inside. ]
It's on me, my love.