[Initially when he wakes up, Twisted Fate already knows that he's not in bed alone, and that's just the way he prefers it. He can't quite remember immediately what happened, but it must have been good. Was it one of the barmaids or one of the nurses? Ah, who knows.
Slowly, he sits up and rolls his shoulders. On his right arm is another tattoo -- not Dalish in the least, it's of some kind of serpent wound around a blade -- and on his left shoulder is a brand, long since scarred. A symbol of a crystal surrounded by a half-sun.
Everything has a story.
Twisted Fate leans over to see who he's with this time, albeit the results leave him wide-eyed and vaguely debating if he should be running out the room right now.]
...Well then.
[Ahh, decisions. What will more likely ensure his survival?]
THE MORNING AFTER.
Slowly, he sits up and rolls his shoulders. On his right arm is another tattoo -- not Dalish in the least, it's of some kind of serpent wound around a blade -- and on his left shoulder is a brand, long since scarred. A symbol of a crystal surrounded by a half-sun.
Everything has a story.
Twisted Fate leans over to see who he's with this time, albeit the results leave him wide-eyed and vaguely debating if he should be running out the room right now.]
...Well then.
[Ahh, decisions. What will more likely ensure his survival?]