[ Wow. The sincerity actually makes Astarion want to throw up in his mouth a little.
—But it's good to have allies, especially ones who are big and burly and willing to hunt food for him. Clive may be an overly genuine idiot, but he's also proving to be a useful idiot. He can stay for now.
Of course, he still shrugs off the gratitude. ]
I only did it because your form was so poor that I was afraid you might accidentally hit me with one of those daggers.
[ Ten feet away, Lae'zel barks at Gale to pack his books up already. ]
If that's all, I have to go pretend to be ill so Lae'zel won't make me go on whatever ridiculous mission she has planned for the day.
[ Prickly. Fortunately, no one in any realm could treat Clive worse than his own mother did, so Astarion's attitude just reads as slightly familiar instead of irritating.
With the sort of troubled, knowing smile that says "Lae'zel is definitely going to single you out for the most cumbersome mission just because you just said that", Clive whistles to Torgal and brushes by Astarion to go pack up his own meager belongings. ]
Good luck. Your acting skills will need it.
[ The good dog can throw a little shade!!!!!! With that, he waves and sees himself off, dutiful paladin that he is.
(That night, Astarion will find a freshly-killed bugbear deposited outside his tent. On it, a note in Clive's neat handwriting: Torgal hasn't touched him, I promise.) ]
[ Astarion does not verbally acknowledge the bugbear — although Gale does, hemming and hawwing about a corpse in their camp. (To which Shadowheart says don't talk about Withers that way.)
In the morning, though, there's a note similarly placed outside Clive's tent, Astarion's handwriting as flowery and filled with flourishes as one would expect:
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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—But it's good to have allies, especially ones who are big and burly and willing to hunt food for him. Clive may be an overly genuine idiot, but he's also proving to be a useful idiot. He can stay for now.
Of course, he still shrugs off the gratitude. ]
I only did it because your form was so poor that I was afraid you might accidentally hit me with one of those daggers.
[ Ten feet away, Lae'zel barks at Gale to pack his books up already. ]
If that's all, I have to go pretend to be ill so Lae'zel won't make me go on whatever ridiculous mission she has planned for the day.
no subject
With the sort of troubled, knowing smile that says "Lae'zel is definitely going to single you out for the most cumbersome mission just because you just said that", Clive whistles to Torgal and brushes by Astarion to go pack up his own meager belongings. ]
Good luck. Your acting skills will need it.
[ The good dog can throw a little shade!!!!!! With that, he waves and sees himself off, dutiful paladin that he is.
(That night, Astarion will find a freshly-killed bugbear deposited outside his tent. On it, a note in Clive's neat handwriting: Torgal hasn't touched him, I promise.) ]
no subject
In the morning, though, there's a note similarly placed outside Clive's tent, Astarion's handwriting as flowery and filled with flourishes as one would expect:
Too furry.
But thank you.]