"Mm," Astarion says, making a face. Holes??? Even his dormitory back at Cazador's didn't have holes. "How charmingly dilapidated."
Eugh. He perches on the very edge of the mattress, legs stretched out in front of him as he tests the softness with a hand. "I'm sure it's all just going to take some... getting used to." All of it. The bed, the chair, being left alone for once in his life. "Besides, by this time tomorrow, I'm sure I'll be the talk of the fortress, and then I'll have invitations to any room I like."
"No kidding." Bull takes a couple steps forward, leans his forearms on the back of the too-hard chair instead of sitting in it. "Eve of war, people get impulsive and needy. You're not gonna find it hard to make," a little flutter of his hand. "New friends. If you're looking."
Astarion makes an offended expression, scrunching up his nose. "I'll have you know that I don't need impulsivity and neediness to make new friends," he shoots back. His face does all the hard work for him, thanks. But he's not actually very interested in making 'new friends' beyond what said friends can do for him, so he doesn't bristle too much.
"I didn't realize that all of that nasty battle business was still ongoing." Which is probably his fault for only sort of listening when Bull talked about it, but he refuses to take the blame.
"Yeah." Drawled enough that it's almost kind of a yugh. "Way bigger deal than since I was last here. Apparently I missed some shit. Hey, sorry in advance if the world ends, kind of an asshole move." Bringing Astarion somewhere that might be about to be ruled by a demented ancient magister, or torn apart by rifts, or whatever.
He makes an even worse face. "Yes, it would be rather an asshole move, wouldn't it?" he asks with a pointed glare, although it's hard to get too upset about it. Even if the world ends, at least he will have remembered what it feels like not to have someone's claws dug into his brain. "I suppose it's still better than the alternative."
Then, curiously: "Are you going to be participating, then?" In the battle, or whatever. Astarion still doesn't understand what the plan of action here is, but clearly there's some sort of scuffle coming up in the near future. "Do try not to die. That would be..." Hm. "Annoying for me."
Bull is basically fully inoculated against Astarion being snippy by now, so there's not even a guilty blink. He shrugs a shoulder, rumbles, "Heard there's gonna be a dragon. I really like killing dragons."
But then he grins, sharp, at the possible consequences of his own death. "Nah, you'd miss me. Probably cry. Don't worry, you wouldn't be the only one. Real blow to the whole Inquisition, the loss of these muscles."
It's kind of annoying for Bull to smile when they're talking about his potential death. Astarion has never had a friend before, and it would be extremely unpleasant to have the only one he's ever made instantly die. He can't fucking say something lame like that, though, so: "I just think it would be embarrassing for you if you died right after returning, that's all." A shrug. "On second thought, as long as I can take your belongings, you're free to get charred to death by a dragon all you like."
"Hrm. Good way to go." Bull's come too close to his own death too many times to be bothered by it. He squints at Astarion. "Trust me, you wouldn't know what to do with half my stuff. But not even one tear? Hurtful."
Astarion can't even remember the last time he cried. Isn't sure he's capable of it anymore, or if it's one of the many things that got beaten out of him. He imagines he'd probably be more angry than sad if Bull were to die in some stupid way, like getting incinerated by a dragon. It would be very rude of him to make Astarion like him right before dying.
"Perhaps I might... sniff," is the closest thing to a concession he's willing to offer.
"Moot point anyway, I'll be fine." He drums his fingers on the back of the chair. "If they even let me go. I'm about six months out of practice — knocking heads together for the Guild barely counts."
Astarion tries not to look like he's happy about that, only partially succeeding. "How unfortunate," he says, not sounding particularly sad. "Well, I suppose you can still make yourself useful by showing me around." Which is way more important than some stupid battle for the fate of the world!!!
Astarion flops onto his back, body lying perpendicular to the mattress. He already tried to sneak in a little trance, but even putting the circumstances aside, it's difficult to get comfortable here after centuries of sleeping on a small, lumpy bed surrounded by other vampires.
"Perhaps I will," he says regardless, already shifting a little with restlessness. "If you aren't going to tell me a bedtime story, then I suppose you're dismissed."
"If it'd help you sleep easier I can stick around," says Bull, aware it's too earnest an offer and likely to activate Astarion's infinite prickles, but he can't think of a way to frame it. He's not unfamiliar with the hypervigilance that comes with trying to sleep in a new place. Probably he makes a better door guard than Charter.
"That's rather presumptuous," Astarion says as he sits back up, visibly puffed up like an angry cat. It's not that he's annoyed by the thought of Bull sticking around; he's annoyed that Bull couldn't come up with some sort of excuse to stay so that he didn't have to embarrass himself by asking. Ugh, apparently he has to do everything around here.
"...Mm," he says after a moment of thought. "I see. Clearly, you've been tasked by that Inquisitor of yours to linger here and make sure I don't steal anything." He's actually eighty percent sure that's why he's had a woman standing outside of his door this whole time, but he's pretty sure Bull isn't here to stop his sticky fingers. "Well. If you must."
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Eugh. He perches on the very edge of the mattress, legs stretched out in front of him as he tests the softness with a hand. "I'm sure it's all just going to take some... getting used to." All of it. The bed, the chair, being left alone for once in his life. "Besides, by this time tomorrow, I'm sure I'll be the talk of the fortress, and then I'll have invitations to any room I like."
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"I didn't realize that all of that nasty battle business was still ongoing." Which is probably his fault for only sort of listening when Bull talked about it, but he refuses to take the blame.
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Then, curiously: "Are you going to be participating, then?" In the battle, or whatever. Astarion still doesn't understand what the plan of action here is, but clearly there's some sort of scuffle coming up in the near future. "Do try not to die. That would be..." Hm. "Annoying for me."
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But then he grins, sharp, at the possible consequences of his own death. "Nah, you'd miss me. Probably cry. Don't worry, you wouldn't be the only one. Real blow to the whole Inquisition, the loss of these muscles."
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"Perhaps I might... sniff," is the closest thing to a concession he's willing to offer.
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"Perhaps I will," he says regardless, already shifting a little with restlessness. "If you aren't going to tell me a bedtime story, then I suppose you're dismissed."
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"...Mm," he says after a moment of thought. "I see. Clearly, you've been tasked by that Inquisitor of yours to linger here and make sure I don't steal anything." He's actually eighty percent sure that's why he's had a woman standing outside of his door this whole time, but he's pretty sure Bull isn't here to stop his sticky fingers. "Well. If you must."