keeperofmagi | random ass rp

"Oh, please. I can be drunk and mostly remember what occurred. Hardly a first for me. Terribly sorry that you have such difficulties yourself."

By now, of course, he's not concerned with his state of affairs, being naked before her. He's more interested in being sure his own clothes are generally clean and not torn; he is a bit sorry that he'd ripped any of hers, and he does intend on replacing it. Whether she likes it or not.

Fate does respect the state of one's clothes.

"None, if no one knows." Twisted Fate smiles wryly. "Really, is this so bad? I like to think we enjoyed ourselves and you can be lovely when you aren't scowling at me so much."

She felt a little more comfortable after she pulled on her breaches, buttoning them up tight before continuing her search.

"Given the state of your backside I'm not convinced there was no scowling last night," Nerva replied drily, finding his trousers and holding them up for him without actually looking at him.

"You realise that this goes against everything I am meant to uphold, yes?" There was a pause, and then a slight mutter. "That is, if I were actually allowed to do my job, here."

"You seemed like you were enjoying yourself. I know I was," he says, chuckling. Templar or not, he did sincerely have a pleasant time. The first time they'd stumbled into this, it was alarming because he was not entirely convinced that neither Cade nor Nerva would strangle him for it. Not that he'd tricked them, but that's not something either of them would admit to either.

There's a soft sigh. "Nerva, everything we want to uphold, no matter where we are -- that's difficult to coincide with what the Inquisition needs, don't you think? My beliefs certainly don't always stack up to it, but we stay out of some necessity." It's hard to say if he truly stays because it's for the benefit of the Inquisition or something else, but he's not lying either.

"I imagine once everything is said and done, I'll go back to my running away from templars and watching my back all the time, but for now, is it really a shame to enjoy oneself? You certainly seem like you believe that, to some degree."

She shook his trousers at him, still not willing to look in his direction, and getting redder by the minute - though mostly around her throat.

"I'm not here to enjoy myself," She said a little tightly. "And I'm fairly certain that sleeping with Dalish Apostates doesn't fall under my duties as given by the Inquisition." Was that - wryness in her voice? Could that even be a joke?

She wasn't going to talk about shame. Of course she felt shame. But she felt shame from nearly everything about her life, at the moment, so what was one more thing. Most of the shame was an attempt to cover up whatever other feelings she felt, which she most certainly did not want to feel, or talk about, or think about.

But he was being unfairly kind, so.

"If you're fishing for compliments then you can at least find me some left over wine to get rid of this hand over. Then I'll see if I can find you one."

Goodness, that actually sounds a bit like a joke from her for a change. Fate chuckles softly. "We could check if it was. Have a night with Twisted Fate. Really, it should be a duty. I like being preoccupied that way. Likely to cause less trouble, too."

At long last, he finally takes his trousers and places them on, sparing her of any further nudity.

"I assure you if I was looking, it wouldn't immediately be from you. But I'll oblige; I'm certain there's something left." The smile he wears is a bit more warm; it's harder to be completely cold to her after two rolls in bed.

The elf turns away; after a bit of searching, he plucks a bottle up from the floor, peering at it curiously. Enough for a few swigs, from the looks of it.

"Ladies first," he muses, offering it to her.

"It might keep you occupied, but I'm fairly sure it would keep everyone else distracted," She replied, finally endevouring to look at him now that he had some form of clothes on, and - Nope. Still way more attractive than he had any right to be. Was that the effect of falling to her weakness twice in a row, or if that had been the weakness in the first place, or if it was because she wasn't currently a ball of fury that was unable to look at the world in any shade save red.

Whatever it was, it made her clear her throat, reach out, take the bottle - and a swig - and then hand it back.

"Fine. Next time, in a state where I'm not black out drunk." That was a compliment, right? Sort of?

Or probably just a confession.

Those were the same things, really.

random ass rp

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