It's late morning by the time Gale wakes up, and he has no idea what day it is. That tends to happen when you've spent months refusing to leave your home, though. Every day is dedicated to trying to source more magical artifacts he can consume first, then researching ways to be rid of the orb in his chest next, and any time in between given over to sulking. Sometimes, the work goes late into the night, but what does that matter when he lives alone? Well, save for Tara, though she also spends time visiting his mother and searching for magical artifacts in her own way, which he doesn't have the luxury of questioning.
But today is... different. He doesn't realize why when he wakes and slips on his robe, thinking it was the sun peaking through the curtains that woke him. Except, then he hears voices. Two feminine voices. Gods, has Tara brought his mother over? He hasn't seen her in months, too ashamed to even try to explain everything that's happened. At first, he thinks he'll simply stay upstairs unless someone comes up and gets him. Then, he actually listens. One voice is surely Tara, but the other one is not his mother. Strange.
Gale heads down his stairs and into his kitchen, brows furrowed in consternation. Whatever he expected, it wasn't what he finds. There's Tara, sure enough, seated at the little table where he eats most of his meals when there's no reason to go into the dinning room (which is always, because he never has guests). Sitting across from her, however, is a woman he has never met before. She appears to be... a clown? Is that a rude assumption?
"Uhh?" is his eloquent introduction, shock robbing him of every word he knows.
"Mister Dekarios! You've slept half the day away!" Tara chides upon noticing him.
"That's not technically true, I think it much closer to a third, and, besides that, who--"
"This is Miss Quinn. Be a good host and put on some tea for our guest, would you?" She turns to the woman to add, apologetic, "I would, but I haven't got thumbs."
Gale stood there staring, fairly certain that he was under no obligation to be a good host to someone he most assuredly hadn't invited into his home, and halfway suspecting that this was some strange dream brought on by a late night and too much wine.
"Ahem?" Tara said, fluffing her wings in a gesture Gale recognized as meaning, Get moving, would you?
And, okay, that would at least give him something to do with himself in this strange situation. He moved to grab the kettle, using a spell to fill it with water and another spell to light the fire before hanging the kettle on a hook over the fire.
But today is... different. He doesn't realize why when he wakes and slips on his robe, thinking it was the sun peaking through the curtains that woke him. Except, then he hears voices. Two feminine voices. Gods, has Tara brought his mother over? He hasn't seen her in months, too ashamed to even try to explain everything that's happened. At first, he thinks he'll simply stay upstairs unless someone comes up and gets him. Then, he actually listens. One voice is surely Tara, but the other one is not his mother. Strange.
Gale heads down his stairs and into his kitchen, brows furrowed in consternation. Whatever he expected, it wasn't what he finds. There's Tara, sure enough, seated at the little table where he eats most of his meals when there's no reason to go into the dinning room (which is always, because he never has guests). Sitting across from her, however, is a woman he has never met before. She appears to be... a clown? Is that a rude assumption?
"Uhh?" is his eloquent introduction, shock robbing him of every word he knows.
"Mister Dekarios! You've slept half the day away!" Tara chides upon noticing him.
"That's not technically true, I think it much closer to a third, and, besides that, who--"
"This is Miss Quinn. Be a good host and put on some tea for our guest, would you?" She turns to the woman to add, apologetic, "I would, but I haven't got thumbs."
Gale stood there staring, fairly certain that he was under no obligation to be a good host to someone he most assuredly hadn't invited into his home, and halfway suspecting that this was some strange dream brought on by a late night and too much wine.
"Ahem?" Tara said, fluffing her wings in a gesture Gale recognized as meaning, Get moving, would you?
And, okay, that would at least give him something to do with himself in this strange situation. He moved to grab the kettle, using a spell to fill it with water and another spell to light the fire before hanging the kettle on a hook over the fire.
The thing called Quinn rests her elbows on his table and cradles her chin in her hands. Most of her face is covered with makeup but a spot is bare on one cheek. The skin there is pale and new, healed with a potion and not yet repainted. The shoulder of her garment is charred on the same side, and the faint smell of burning still lingers in the air around her. Although she and Tara are certainly on good terms now, apparently their first meeting was not quite harmonious.
The ribbons braided into her hair are trimmed with bells that chime softly when she tilts her head at Gale in greeting. The line of her smile is emphasized by curls drawn out from the corners of her mouth. There are so many patterns and colors happening at once that it all makes for quite a garish impression overall. Dazzling, in the way of a poisonous flower or little venomous creature. Danger, do not touch.
"Hello, sleepyhead!" she chirps in an accent that's all wrong for Waterdeep. The harlequin is an invasive species. Her eyes flick over Gale from toe to tip and then away to Tara, the wizard already forgotten. She seems under the impression that this is Tara's home and Gale's presence here is merely incidental. Which, really, is she entirely wrong?
"You're extremely capable even without thumbs, Tara-my-dear," Harley coos at the tressym, "and you were very right to bring me here."
Another soft ringing of bells as she twists in her chair to watch Gale with the kettle. "The straits are dire."
The ribbons braided into her hair are trimmed with bells that chime softly when she tilts her head at Gale in greeting. The line of her smile is emphasized by curls drawn out from the corners of her mouth. There are so many patterns and colors happening at once that it all makes for quite a garish impression overall. Dazzling, in the way of a poisonous flower or little venomous creature. Danger, do not touch.
"Hello, sleepyhead!" she chirps in an accent that's all wrong for Waterdeep. The harlequin is an invasive species. Her eyes flick over Gale from toe to tip and then away to Tara, the wizard already forgotten. She seems under the impression that this is Tara's home and Gale's presence here is merely incidental. Which, really, is she entirely wrong?
"You're extremely capable even without thumbs, Tara-my-dear," Harley coos at the tressym, "and you were very right to bring me here."
Another soft ringing of bells as she twists in her chair to watch Gale with the kettle. "The straits are dire."
Gale takes out a box of tea and three dainty tea cups, and he's almost more surprised when the leaves don't turn into worms when he adds them to the cups, still half convinced that this is a bizarre dream. There are powerful wards on his home, enough to keep out all but the most powerful of wizards. If the clown woman was a powerful magic user, then he would sense it, but he doesn't -- that means that Tara brought her home and let her in. But why?
Dire? She was right, but that doesn't mean he resents the assessment. "Miss... Quinn, was it? I'm Gale of Waterdeep," he says. Typically his introduction would involve a lot more flourish, but then again, usually he wouldn't be introducing himself in his house coat. "How do you and Tara know one another...?" He places the tea cups on the table, along with sugar and cream.
"We met this morning! Bit of a misunderstanding, but we've worked all that out now. She was exceptionally nimble in dodging my fireball, though!" The tressym says this with fondness, and Gale furrows his eyebrows again, further confused. He casts a spell, and a spectral blue hand appears to get the kettle and pour water into each of their cups before returning the kettle to its place and disappearing.
"You fireballed her, Tara?" Tara isn't the only one in this house capable of a disapproving tone, apparently. He takes a seat at the little table beside his strange visitor, eyeing the missing makeup and part of her garment with new understanding. He adds cream to Tara's cup (it's at least half cream), then gesturing for Harley to help herself.
"Yes, but we've got that all sorted! Miss Quinn is actually going to help me source magical artifacts for you," the feline answers, and Gale sits up suddenly straighter.
"Tara, did you tell her--?"
"I told her that you required magical artifacts, but the details of the whole tragic tale is yours to tell." For the first time, she sounds tired and sad.
"Yes, well..." Gale begins, eyes mostly on his cup as he stirs the sugar in. "So, you really mean to help? I can pay you, of course, for any items acquired."
Dire? She was right, but that doesn't mean he resents the assessment. "Miss... Quinn, was it? I'm Gale of Waterdeep," he says. Typically his introduction would involve a lot more flourish, but then again, usually he wouldn't be introducing himself in his house coat. "How do you and Tara know one another...?" He places the tea cups on the table, along with sugar and cream.
"We met this morning! Bit of a misunderstanding, but we've worked all that out now. She was exceptionally nimble in dodging my fireball, though!" The tressym says this with fondness, and Gale furrows his eyebrows again, further confused. He casts a spell, and a spectral blue hand appears to get the kettle and pour water into each of their cups before returning the kettle to its place and disappearing.
"You fireballed her, Tara?" Tara isn't the only one in this house capable of a disapproving tone, apparently. He takes a seat at the little table beside his strange visitor, eyeing the missing makeup and part of her garment with new understanding. He adds cream to Tara's cup (it's at least half cream), then gesturing for Harley to help herself.
"Yes, but we've got that all sorted! Miss Quinn is actually going to help me source magical artifacts for you," the feline answers, and Gale sits up suddenly straighter.
"Tara, did you tell her--?"
"I told her that you required magical artifacts, but the details of the whole tragic tale is yours to tell." For the first time, she sounds tired and sad.
"Yes, well..." Gale begins, eyes mostly on his cup as he stirs the sugar in. "So, you really mean to help? I can pay you, of course, for any items acquired."
Harley's laugh at his reaction to Tara's retelling is a soft puff of air, like it's a fond moment of nostalgia and not something from just a few hours ago. She adds enough sugar to her tea to practically make a syrup and lets Tara take the lead in explaining circumstances.
The whiff of gossip makes her perk up, but she is honestly just not interested enough in Gale to pry. Not yet, anyway. She is utterly charmed by the tressym and the tressym wants magical artifacts, therefore she will buy the tressym's friendship by stealing as many magical artifacts as her fluffy little heart could want.
At the mention of payment, Harley's brows go up and her lips purse against the rim of the cup. It's a genuine expression of surprise, because the idea of payment hadn't even occurred to her.
"I do like money," Harley concedes, tapping her nails against the table, "but I don't like the way people think they can make demands of me once they give me coin." Employment, as a whole, is not a system she enjoys. She ponders it for a bit, then shakes her head. "Mmmnno, no, I don't think so. I won't be paying for any of it anyway."
She sets the cup down and rests her chin on her hand again, turning the full warmth of her smile on Gale.
"I like Tara a lot, and this is important to her, so I'll do it until I don't want to anymore. From my side, your circumstances are incidental." She rolls one slim shoulder in a blithe shrug. "No offense."
The whiff of gossip makes her perk up, but she is honestly just not interested enough in Gale to pry. Not yet, anyway. She is utterly charmed by the tressym and the tressym wants magical artifacts, therefore she will buy the tressym's friendship by stealing as many magical artifacts as her fluffy little heart could want.
At the mention of payment, Harley's brows go up and her lips purse against the rim of the cup. It's a genuine expression of surprise, because the idea of payment hadn't even occurred to her.
"I do like money," Harley concedes, tapping her nails against the table, "but I don't like the way people think they can make demands of me once they give me coin." Employment, as a whole, is not a system she enjoys. She ponders it for a bit, then shakes her head. "Mmmnno, no, I don't think so. I won't be paying for any of it anyway."
She sets the cup down and rests her chin on her hand again, turning the full warmth of her smile on Gale.
"I like Tara a lot, and this is important to her, so I'll do it until I don't want to anymore. From my side, your circumstances are incidental." She rolls one slim shoulder in a blithe shrug. "No offense."
She doesn't want payment? "That is sort of the way employment generally works..." he murmurs mostly to himself.
Tara purrs and leaves off lapping at her tea to butt her head under the woman's hand for pets. Not to mention, the types of objects he's seeking usually belong to the wealthy and the powerful. He would usually be morally opposed to the theft, or a stranger sticking her neck out for him without asking anything in return. Gale understands being fond of Tara, of course, but to be willing to go so far for her affections... This woman is chaos personified, so much so that he's beginning to wonder whether she's some sort of fey. Gale doesn't have the luxury of looking a gift horse in the mouth, though, or questioning which plane it comes from.
"No offense taken?" Maybe he should be offended, but the absurdity of it all made it easier not to be. "But... thank you. Sincerely. I can't express how much it means to me. And Tara too, I'm sure."
For a few minutes, he just ponders, the only sounds sipping and purring. "Well, maybe we'll be able to trade services. I'm a wizard--" The rest of his words die on his tongue. Usually, he'd follow it up with something like 'of considerable acclaim', 'of renowned skill', or something of the like, but he's not even sure he's that anymore. "And perhaps I can be of some service. To start, I could mend your shirt?" He gestures to the singed edges. "I'll need to touch it, but I can repair it with magic, if that's alright."
Tara purrs and leaves off lapping at her tea to butt her head under the woman's hand for pets. Not to mention, the types of objects he's seeking usually belong to the wealthy and the powerful. He would usually be morally opposed to the theft, or a stranger sticking her neck out for him without asking anything in return. Gale understands being fond of Tara, of course, but to be willing to go so far for her affections... This woman is chaos personified, so much so that he's beginning to wonder whether she's some sort of fey. Gale doesn't have the luxury of looking a gift horse in the mouth, though, or questioning which plane it comes from.
"No offense taken?" Maybe he should be offended, but the absurdity of it all made it easier not to be. "But... thank you. Sincerely. I can't express how much it means to me. And Tara too, I'm sure."
For a few minutes, he just ponders, the only sounds sipping and purring. "Well, maybe we'll be able to trade services. I'm a wizard--" The rest of his words die on his tongue. Usually, he'd follow it up with something like 'of considerable acclaim', 'of renowned skill', or something of the like, but he's not even sure he's that anymore. "And perhaps I can be of some service. To start, I could mend your shirt?" He gestures to the singed edges. "I'll need to touch it, but I can repair it with magic, if that's alright."
Harley gasps softly when Tara butts against her hands and looks at Gale with her entire heart in her eyes like she can't believe her good fortune. Blessings, blessings on this day.
"Yeah, sure, knock yourself out." He could be saying anything and she'd agree with it right now.
"Yeah, sure, knock yourself out." He could be saying anything and she'd agree with it right now.
Alright, fine, that's pretty endearing. Gale smiles.
"Here," is his warning before he leans over to touch the tattered edges of her shirt. His spell casting is quick and decisive, more than anything else he does, and the shirt knits itself back together as cleanly as if it had never been burned. "There. That's the least I can do. If you make a habit if getting hit with fireballs, I can at least repair all your clothes."
"Here," is his warning before he leans over to touch the tattered edges of her shirt. His spell casting is quick and decisive, more than anything else he does, and the shirt knits itself back together as cleanly as if it had never been burned. "There. That's the least I can do. If you make a habit if getting hit with fireballs, I can at least repair all your clothes."
"Nice trick. Must come in handy."
Her hand keeps moving over Tara's ears while she watches Gale magically repair her shirt. Her mouth curves up at the corners and she raises one delicate brow. Mildly impressed. He's no kitty cat, but he might be alright anyway.
"I wouldn't say it's a habit! But it's not ... irregular," she reluctantly admits. "Actually, I think it might be acid more often than fire."
Her hand keeps moving over Tara's ears while she watches Gale magically repair her shirt. Her mouth curves up at the corners and she raises one delicate brow. Mildly impressed. He's no kitty cat, but he might be alright anyway.
"I wouldn't say it's a habit! But it's not ... irregular," she reluctantly admits. "Actually, I think it might be acid more often than fire."
"Oh, it does. I know a fair few more tricks than that, however." Except that many of the spells he had known are now out of his reach. Even so, he's a powerful wizard who can do much more than cast Mending.
"Acid? Particularly nasty business, that, the way it soaks and sticks to things. At least fire can be put out, and the damage stops. What do you do where you're regularly getting hit with acid?" He probably shouldn't ask. It's clearly criminal, if she's so willing to steal without a second thought. The type of thing he would sleep easier not knowing about. But Gale is nothing if not curious.
"Acid? Particularly nasty business, that, the way it soaks and sticks to things. At least fire can be put out, and the damage stops. What do you do where you're regularly getting hit with acid?" He probably shouldn't ask. It's clearly criminal, if she's so willing to steal without a second thought. The type of thing he would sleep easier not knowing about. But Gale is nothing if not curious.
Harley takes a sip of tea to delay answering the question. Explaining what she gets up to always turns into a whole thing with judging and she has already been fireballed once today. It was very funny and she holds no grudges about it, but still, this has already been a day.
Plus, Gale doesn't want her knowing his tragic backstory. It's only fair that she get to hold her own back.
"A compromise," she offers with a coy flutter of her lashes. "If you want to ask questions about me, you have to tell me something about yourself first."
Plus, Gale doesn't want her knowing his tragic backstory. It's only fair that she get to hold her own back.
"A compromise," she offers with a coy flutter of her lashes. "If you want to ask questions about me, you have to tell me something about yourself first."
Edited 2025-02-19 21:49 (UTC)
Now Gale is the one sipping his tea to stall.
"I think I would be amenable to that compromise. A question for a question. I've asked mine, what would you like to know?" A beat while he considers. "Though, if you don't want to answer, you're under no obligation, as I have no desire to make a guest uncomfortable." Guest-ish, anyway.
"I think I would be amenable to that compromise. A question for a question. I've asked mine, what would you like to know?" A beat while he considers. "Though, if you don't want to answer, you're under no obligation, as I have no desire to make a guest uncomfortable." Guest-ish, anyway.
"Mmm." She waves a hand through the air as if plucking a question from an invisible shelf. Truth is, she doesn't know enough to think of something to ask.
"Make an offer," she finally suggests, "and I'll answer in equal value. But it has to be true!"
"Make an offer," she finally suggests, "and I'll answer in equal value. But it has to be true!"
He laughs at this suggestion -- not derisively, just surprised -- and it feels like stretching a long unused muscle.
"I confess, I'm not sure what you might find interesting." He considers grandiose tales, the many feats he accomplished, even his time with Mystra. These are things he might have previously spoken of to garner respect and awe, but he suspects this woman wouldn't care. His eyes light on Tara, tilting her head just so to get scratches in the right spot behind her ears, and he things he knows what Miss Quinn would be interested in. "When I was a little boy, maybe nine years old--"
"Eight," corrects Tara.
"Eight years old, thank you, I desperately wanted a kitten. Both of my parents said no, so... I summoned a familiar. Tara." He beams, reaching out to scratch the tressym under the chin. "Not my first show of magic, certainly not my last, but definitely my favorite."
"I confess, I'm not sure what you might find interesting." He considers grandiose tales, the many feats he accomplished, even his time with Mystra. These are things he might have previously spoken of to garner respect and awe, but he suspects this woman wouldn't care. His eyes light on Tara, tilting her head just so to get scratches in the right spot behind her ears, and he things he knows what Miss Quinn would be interested in. "When I was a little boy, maybe nine years old--"
"Eight," corrects Tara.
"Eight years old, thank you, I desperately wanted a kitten. Both of my parents said no, so... I summoned a familiar. Tara." He beams, reaching out to scratch the tressym under the chin. "Not my first show of magic, certainly not my last, but definitely my favorite."
She smiles at the story. A little tight around the eyes, a little sad. She doesn't have anything worth sharing from her own childhood.
Her posture has been performatively relaxed, ready to spring to action at any moment like a coiled wire, but seeing the way Tara melts into the affection... Something in her goes buttery soft. If this were a dangerous place, if his hands had ever hurt the tressym, there wouldn't be such easy trust.
So, she trusts.
"The acid," she starts and stops again. Runs her tongue over her teeth, weighing his story against her own. Considering how much to share to keep a fair trade. "It's a particular favorite of an ex-lover. He doesn't want me anymore, but can't stand that I might ever think of anything else. Sends me little reminders."
She tips her head, weighing the scales.
"And also, you can call me Harley."
There. Even.
Her posture has been performatively relaxed, ready to spring to action at any moment like a coiled wire, but seeing the way Tara melts into the affection... Something in her goes buttery soft. If this were a dangerous place, if his hands had ever hurt the tressym, there wouldn't be such easy trust.
So, she trusts.
"The acid," she starts and stops again. Runs her tongue over her teeth, weighing his story against her own. Considering how much to share to keep a fair trade. "It's a particular favorite of an ex-lover. He doesn't want me anymore, but can't stand that I might ever think of anything else. Sends me little reminders."
She tips her head, weighing the scales.
"And also, you can call me Harley."
There. Even.
Edited 2025-02-21 03:49 (UTC)
Oh. Oh.
"Harley," he says, and his throat is a little dry. "I'm sorry. You don't deserve that." It sounds like a platitude, but he doesn't need to know her to know that no one deserves that.
"Gale knows something about having a terrible ex-lover," Tara pipes up, dripping disdain for whoever it is.
"Tara!" Gale hisses, "Remember 'my tale to tell'?"
"Sorry," she says, and sounds like she at least half means it.
"Anyway, that was entirely different from what Miss- what Harley described."
Tara huffs, but doesn't comment again as she sets about licking one of her paws.
Gale looks... Uncomfortable? Embarrassed? Sad? Regardless, it deepens the lines between his eyes and he frowns. "Maybe... that's something I could help you with? In exchange for your help acquiring arcane items." He ponders it for a moment, hand to his chin. "Not sure precisely how yet, I would need to research it."
"Harley," he says, and his throat is a little dry. "I'm sorry. You don't deserve that." It sounds like a platitude, but he doesn't need to know her to know that no one deserves that.
"Gale knows something about having a terrible ex-lover," Tara pipes up, dripping disdain for whoever it is.
"Tara!" Gale hisses, "Remember 'my tale to tell'?"
"Sorry," she says, and sounds like she at least half means it.
"Anyway, that was entirely different from what Miss- what Harley described."
Tara huffs, but doesn't comment again as she sets about licking one of her paws.
Gale looks... Uncomfortable? Embarrassed? Sad? Regardless, it deepens the lines between his eyes and he frowns. "Maybe... that's something I could help you with? In exchange for your help acquiring arcane items." He ponders it for a moment, hand to his chin. "Not sure precisely how yet, I would need to research it."
There's a strange flicker across her face as she tries to school her expression. Her smile takes on a sharp edge but her laugh is just as light and cheery as before.
"You don't know what I deserve."
She leans back in the chair and crosses her arms. A toss of her hair sets off another round of chimes.
"Research what, actually? How to not get hit by acid? How to deal with someone else's ex? Probably better for you to ignore it."
"You don't know what I deserve."
She leans back in the chair and crosses her arms. A toss of her hair sets off another round of chimes.
"Research what, actually? How to not get hit by acid? How to deal with someone else's ex? Probably better for you to ignore it."
He's misstepped somewhere. That's all he ever does anymore, which is why he doesn't leave his home. "I don't know you, you are correct in that assertion, but I don't think anyone deserves that kind of treatment," he says, because he really does believe that.
Once, his ego night not have tolerated the implication that he wasn't up to the task, but that was a different time, a different Gale, and he looks a little chastened now. "If that's your wish, but there are spells to make people more difficult to find, and I thought that might be of use to you."
Once, his ego night not have tolerated the implication that he wasn't up to the task, but that was a different time, a different Gale, and he looks a little chastened now. "If that's your wish, but there are spells to make people more difficult to find, and I thought that might be of use to you."
She wants to sneer. She wants to bare her teeth and turn this conversation into a knife fight, the way a friend once told her every conversation with her ends. That friend is dead now, and the wave of grief is what holds her tongue.
"Maybe." It's hard to imagine a world where she could hide from the person who wants to hurt her most. "But if it worked, if you did stop him from finding me, then who do you think he'd hurt instead? I can take it."
"Maybe." It's hard to imagine a world where she could hide from the person who wants to hurt her most. "But if it worked, if you did stop him from finding me, then who do you think he'd hurt instead? I can take it."
"Does making yourself a target keep him from hurting others?" The question is more genuine than rhetorical. He barely knows her, and he doesn't know her ex-lover at all; maybe making herself a sacrificial lamb really does protect other people. He suspects it doesn't.
He doesn't want to fight with the first person without fur that he's really spoken to in months, so he lifts his hands, conciliatory. "I apologize. It's not my business. Just know the offer stands, even if you would like just an evening of relatively assured safety as an exchange for your assistance in acquiring items."
He doesn't want to fight with the first person without fur that he's really spoken to in months, so he lifts his hands, conciliatory. "I apologize. It's not my business. Just know the offer stands, even if you would like just an evening of relatively assured safety as an exchange for your assistance in acquiring items."
approval not high enough, pls insert additional magical items
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stoplickingthedamnthing
2025-02-26 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
Gale cuts his gaze away, and the warmth leaves his expression. He doesn't become cold so much as blank, like a closed door.
He clears his throat to reply. "No, I'm afraid I won't be answering that question. I apologize." Tara silently moves to his side of the table, butting his chest with her head. Right above her furry head, black tendrils peak out from beneath the neckline of his robe. It looks like perhaps some sort of tattoo. Tara rubs her entire body against Gale, hard enough that it pushes him back in his seat, and he smiles a little, burying his fingers in her fur. "You may ask something else, though, if you like."
He clears his throat to reply. "No, I'm afraid I won't be answering that question. I apologize." Tara silently moves to his side of the table, butting his chest with her head. Right above her furry head, black tendrils peak out from beneath the neckline of his robe. It looks like perhaps some sort of tattoo. Tara rubs her entire body against Gale, hard enough that it pushes him back in his seat, and he smiles a little, burying his fingers in her fur. "You may ask something else, though, if you like."
He pulls away, she's drawn in more. The unfortunate pattern of relationships in her life. Ah, well. Her posture opens back up and she leans her elbow on the table to prop up her chin again. She isn't the least put off by the sudden rebuff and her smile warms again.
"Thought so. We both have our limits."
"Thought so. We both have our limits."
"I suspect everyone does." He turns his smile up to her, though it's a bit rueful now. Though he's a little surprised that she accepted his refusal without argument, he doesn't show it. "And you're still willing to help me find artifacts, even if you don't know what purpose I intend to put them towards?"
He laughs, but it peters out when he realizes she isn't joking. Once again, he wonders what sort of monster her former lover must be.
"No, I won't use the items to harm you, or anyone else, in any way. I swear it."
"No, I won't use the items to harm you, or anyone else, in any way. I swear it."
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