"You're looking pretty official now," he notes, walking a little into the room, in the space Aden made for him. Doors that move by themselves, still creepy. Still that weird metallic smell everywhere. Crates of something on the floor. Vials of something else. Mostly stuff he doesn't know enough about to even think about using. Knives though, at least. Almost weird to see something familiar. Makes sense that Aden would only have rogue weapons here, in what seems like his private... his private something. Whatever this place is. Not a house, because it isn't placed like a house. Hard not to try and figure it out and start thinking about flying shitting Fade-carriages.
Better not to think too hard about it.
"So, how'd that happen?" His eye darts over the knives that he can see, sorting them out in his head. Not the ones that are made to work with poison, that's never been his thing. Might be better to use something unremarkable anyway, something Aden won't mind losing. Just in case. If Aden ends up wanting him to take one at all, that is. The fact that Aden didn't actually tell him out loud whether he wants the Bull with a weapon or not is actually bugging him a little. There's a good chance the guy's never seen a Qunari before this; maybe he doesn't know how important it is, making sure the Bull's not as dangerous right now as he could be. His mind works over that, while his eye works over the knives. "Sounds like something out of one of-- Uh."
Varric. The easy certainty that there's no one anywhere who hasn't at least heard of the guy even if they haven't read his stuff, the way he can just say something like that and anyone's going to know what he means. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
"You know," he starts again, tone perfectly steady, steadier than it was a moment before, gaze fixed down somewhere in the direction of the knives while his hand hovers over them like he's still assessing. "One of those books, the romance ones. 'Star crossed lovers on opposite sides of a war, will they 'spy' the love in each other's hearts' or, you know, something like that. When did you stop wanting to kill each other?"
no subject
Better not to think too hard about it.
"So, how'd that happen?" His eye darts over the knives that he can see, sorting them out in his head. Not the ones that are made to work with poison, that's never been his thing. Might be better to use something unremarkable anyway, something Aden won't mind losing. Just in case. If Aden ends up wanting him to take one at all, that is. The fact that Aden didn't actually tell him out loud whether he wants the Bull with a weapon or not is actually bugging him a little. There's a good chance the guy's never seen a Qunari before this; maybe he doesn't know how important it is, making sure the Bull's not as dangerous right now as he could be. His mind works over that, while his eye works over the knives. "Sounds like something out of one of-- Uh."
Varric. The easy certainty that there's no one anywhere who hasn't at least heard of the guy even if they haven't read his stuff, the way he can just say something like that and anyone's going to know what he means. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
"You know," he starts again, tone perfectly steady, steadier than it was a moment before, gaze fixed down somewhere in the direction of the knives while his hand hovers over them like he's still assessing. "One of those books, the romance ones. 'Star crossed lovers on opposite sides of a war, will they 'spy' the love in each other's hearts' or, you know, something like that. When did you stop wanting to kill each other?"