[ Impossible not to grow smug, with Astarionās barely veiled irritation. Itās apparent that Astarion underestimated him (and likely still does, unless someone mentioned his status as archmage). Good. Unfortunately, Astarion recovers quick, light on his feet, and leads him to an area of town that he has never once visited. Spiralling scenarios unfold in his mindās eye ā a trap, a trick ā but Gale canāt afford the scene and would indeed prefer this disagreement to be settled with words, not blows.
By the time he comprehends where they find themselves, itās too late. He doesnāt know where to look, with the murals just as scandalous as the priest that slinks past them, fine silks slipping from his shoulders. Never in his life has he visited such an establishment, even one with ties to the gods.
The proprietress (Sanchel, she coos) glances up at them, a glimmer of recognition alighting her eyes as they rake over Gale. If the colour and fabric of his brocade werenāt telling enough, the silver symbol dangling from his ear cinches it. A smile blooms on her face. Astarion is an unknown quantity, however, so she addresses him first, appraising.
Oh, my, and here I thought your companion had finally come to kneel before another goddess. She flourishes a hand in the direction of the fountain. No need to say his name and shame him further, when heāll well know how much her discretion costs.
Directed at Gale, then, dripping with innuendo, Your worship would be most welcome here. A brilliant flush rises from his neck to his cheeks. ]
Ah ā alas, my companion [ Not the reverse! As if that somehow matters. ] is terribly greedy, so my praying hands will be occupied indefinitely.
[ Smile tight, Gale clasps his hand at Astarionās elbow, steering him to the fountain so he neednāt break or expose the chain. With his free hand, he fishes a coin purse from his pocket and upends the contents. Mystra, forgive me. The water glows, tinting the room in blue light. ]
[ with a demure cough, ] In fact, weāll take the room for the evening. [ A knowing smile on her lips, Sanchel wanders over and produces a key from her loose sleeve, offering it to Astarion. Straight ahead and up the steps, second door on the left. Youāll be quite pleased with my selection. They say Sanchel can judge a personās preferences just by looking at them, but Gale suspects she dabbles in reading minds more than bodies.
His hand drops to the small of Astarionās back, urging him onward. Anywhere but here. ]
no subject
By the time he comprehends where they find themselves, itās too late. He doesnāt know where to look, with the murals just as scandalous as the priest that slinks past them, fine silks slipping from his shoulders. Never in his life has he visited such an establishment, even one with ties to the gods.
The proprietress (Sanchel, she coos) glances up at them, a glimmer of recognition alighting her eyes as they rake over Gale. If the colour and fabric of his brocade werenāt telling enough, the silver symbol dangling from his ear cinches it. A smile blooms on her face. Astarion is an unknown quantity, however, so she addresses him first, appraising.
Oh, my, and here I thought your companion had finally come to kneel before another goddess. She flourishes a hand in the direction of the fountain. No need to say his name and shame him further, when heāll well know how much her discretion costs.
Directed at Gale, then, dripping with innuendo, Your worship would be most welcome here. A brilliant flush rises from his neck to his cheeks. ]
Ah ā alas, my companion [ Not the reverse! As if that somehow matters. ] is terribly greedy, so my praying hands will be occupied indefinitely.
[ Smile tight, Gale clasps his hand at Astarionās elbow, steering him to the fountain so he neednāt break or expose the chain. With his free hand, he fishes a coin purse from his pocket and upends the contents. Mystra, forgive me. The water glows, tinting the room in blue light. ]
[ with a demure cough, ] In fact, weāll take the room for the evening. [ A knowing smile on her lips, Sanchel wanders over and produces a key from her loose sleeve, offering it to Astarion. Straight ahead and up the steps, second door on the left. Youāll be quite pleased with my selection. They say Sanchel can judge a personās preferences just by looking at them, but Gale suspects she dabbles in reading minds more than bodies.
His hand drops to the small of Astarionās back, urging him onward. Anywhere but here. ]