[Courtship, and in the ensuing scuffle, there's only one set of clever eyes that notice the way Fenris flushes. It's faint, to be fair. Just a darkening of his ears, his gaze flicking down and away before settling back into the steady, neutral expression he so often adopts around this group. Dalyria studies him for a long few seconds, but doesn't say anything; that isn't her way. Better to ask Astarion afterwards, when he's less inclined to puff and strut for the sake of saving face.
Besides: things are settling down now. Petras is still seething quietly, but there's something more interesting than mere bickering right now. Even Violet feels it: bitter interjections aside, this is still too juicy a piece of gossip to allow it to lie.
'You really can't court a servant,' Aurelia points out. Her voice is a little arrogant, but there's more confusion there than anything. As if Astarion had proposed he might court a dog; it makes no sense. 'Your father won't allow it. No one will allow it, you know what happens when people—'
'— act out too harshly,' Petras interjects, scowling. 'It's one thing to bed your servants; it's another to act as if you're going to romance them. What are you playing at?']
He is not playing at anything.
[Fenris' rumble startles them all; six set of eyes flick towards him, mildly surprised he's speaking at all. He cannot blame them; he's surprised he spoke up, but now he has to continue, doesn't he?]
It is happening, for better or worse.
[They look doubtful, and once again, Fenris cannot blame them. What felt so sure in the safety of Astarion's bedroom feels paltry and pale in the afternoon light, especially under their scrutiny. And he has never been good at this kind of thing, not really; he goes stiff and and cold, shutting down in favor of showing any kind of weakness.
'So you expect us to believe Astarion's become one of those soppy idiots that dream of throwing it all away in favor of something like love?' Petras retorts, and Fenris' mouth thins. 'Please. Idiot though he is, sentimentality was never one of his faults.'
'It's a joke,' Violet declares with a sniff. 'And a poor one.']
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Besides: things are settling down now. Petras is still seething quietly, but there's something more interesting than mere bickering right now. Even Violet feels it: bitter interjections aside, this is still too juicy a piece of gossip to allow it to lie.
'You really can't court a servant,' Aurelia points out. Her voice is a little arrogant, but there's more confusion there than anything. As if Astarion had proposed he might court a dog; it makes no sense. 'Your father won't allow it. No one will allow it, you know what happens when people—'
'— act out too harshly,' Petras interjects, scowling. 'It's one thing to bed your servants; it's another to act as if you're going to romance them. What are you playing at?']
He is not playing at anything.
[Fenris' rumble startles them all; six set of eyes flick towards him, mildly surprised he's speaking at all. He cannot blame them; he's surprised he spoke up, but now he has to continue, doesn't he?]
It is happening, for better or worse.
[They look doubtful, and once again, Fenris cannot blame them. What felt so sure in the safety of Astarion's bedroom feels paltry and pale in the afternoon light, especially under their scrutiny. And he has never been good at this kind of thing, not really; he goes stiff and and cold, shutting down in favor of showing any kind of weakness.
'So you expect us to believe Astarion's become one of those soppy idiots that dream of throwing it all away in favor of something like love?' Petras retorts, and Fenris' mouth thins. 'Please. Idiot though he is, sentimentality was never one of his faults.'
'It's a joke,' Violet declares with a sniff. 'And a poor one.']