[ She snickers - twisting back to the glass he had gotten her - and brings it up to sip it slowly. Her eyes meeting his as she makes a show of it - that his gift, his alone would be the gift she accepts. Letting well against her lip before she drinks it deep. ]
I don't like insincere men. They can't dismiss my thoughts, my self, and then act like gold and trinkets is enough for me.
[ That's a powerful sort of look. He doesn't know that he deserves it - there's a brief nervous tremor that goes through the pit of his stomach. He imtries to ignore it. ]
A principled enough stance, but then you're out quite a lot of gold and trinkets. Which strikes me as a pity.
[ She scrapes her teeth against her lip as she swallows down the drink, watching him with that fixed same look still. A question that sits on the tip of her tongue that otherwise, otherwise she would never say. But the thick, curling warmth of her limbs around him that soft hair under her fingers and that his eyes. His eyes look better than richness of the deepest coffers, it suggests the things she would not dare and lets her enact them out as she leans into him, a laughed distance away from his mouth. Where she's heady with the taste of wine and the smell of incense smoke in her hair. ]
- I would not care if were not but flowers, I would wear them and nothing else, if they came from you.
[ Drunk as she is, content as she is, she goes with the press of his fingers, - then bites, not harsh but at the pads of them. Happy little growl before she slips sideways. Hard, hard to keep herself upright like this. Leaning into his shoulder, turning her cheek to his heartbeat. ]
No, but you were tactless. You are very rich. You said exactly what you wanted from me. I gave it. you would only be insincere if you all of a sudden wanted love from me. [ She yawns, wide, and shutting her eyes. A mistake - she realises, a suddenly terrible mistake. ] Byerly?
[ Oh, god, they will be gossiping about this later. With any luck, it'll be just about how he...got her drunk and took advantage or some such thing. What a villain, that man, all that. He couldn't abide it if the gossip became about her...So he doesn't stop her, doesn't place her firmly back in her own seat; he cannot look honorable here. ]
You said my name before. [ She corrects, like that is the most important thing in her mind split between this happy warm bliss, and the other, pressing most important problem. ]
I think I'm going to be sick. [ Definitely, definitely should never have tried to drink with him. ]
[ It takes more effort, a petulant, frustrated noise as she pushes against him when he gets her to move. But gets her up, regardless. Even if it takes her one lurching step after another until need over takes whatever her drunken mind insisted - ( doesn't want to let go of his hand, hates that she had to get off him - could have gone to sleep right there ) -
Gets to the sink, and every awful thing she'd drunk comes straight back up again. Not half as good coming back up as it was going down. Hair falling everywhere, hanging onto the edge of the sink. ]
[ His movements are elegant, sure, and practiced, scooping up her hair and tucking it up behind her head in a careful bun, keeping it away from any splashback. With his other hand he turns on the water, running it and taking a moment when she's not throwing up to wet a towel. He presses that to the back of her neck and makes low soothing sounds in her ear. ]
[ He knows far better than she what to do where it's concerned. The miserable unhappy noise she makes for the effort of: drinking and regretting it. Why did she agree to this? Pride. Always pride. The worst thing she's done in weeks. She wasn't getting up at dawn tomorrow, that much she knew. ]
I'm never doing this again. I do not care what you say about it.
[ It's a miserable cough, leaning heavily forward. ]
[ Lost, a little, when she coughs a bit more, but finally, enough gone that she cups her hand to the tap, rinsing her mouth out. Not so much to help, but rid of that disgusting on her tongue. ]
It is not your fault. Besides, it was just a drink. No different to the others you... gave me. [ Wipes at her mouth, quick sharp movement. ] Besides, it is his fault for sending it to me.
[ As if - the world ever worked that way. To her mind, it should, as firmly as it didn't ever. ]
[ Her head rises up, pushing up with her elbows to keep herself steady. ]
Tired. [ A miserable little laugh. ] Is it defeat to return home now? [ Later than she ever tried to stay out, but probably far earlier than he ever did. ]
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I don't like insincere men. They can't dismiss my thoughts, my self, and then act like gold and trinkets is enough for me.
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A principled enough stance, but then you're out quite a lot of gold and trinkets. Which strikes me as a pity.
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[ She scrapes her teeth against her lip as she swallows down the drink, watching him with that fixed same look still. A question that sits on the tip of her tongue that otherwise, otherwise she would never say. But the thick, curling warmth of her limbs around him that soft hair under her fingers and that his eyes. His eyes look better than richness of the deepest coffers, it suggests the things she would not dare and lets her enact them out as she leans into him, a laughed distance away from his mouth. Where she's heady with the taste of wine and the smell of incense smoke in her hair. ]
- I would not care if were not but flowers, I would wear them and nothing else, if they came from you.
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[ He lifts up his hand to brush it over her lips - a gesture of affection, but also one that keeps her from kissing him where others can see. ]
But I am not famed for my sincerity, you know.
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No, but you were tactless. You are very rich. You said exactly what you wanted from me. I gave it. you would only be insincere if you all of a sudden wanted love from me. [ She yawns, wide, and shutting her eyes. A mistake - she realises, a suddenly terrible mistake. ] Byerly?
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Yes, my lady?
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I think I'm going to be sick. [ Definitely, definitely should never have tried to drink with him. ]
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[ Yes. Poor thing. Drank too fast at the end there... ]
Let's get you to a bathroom, then. Come on.
[ He eases her up to standing. ]
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Gets to the sink, and every awful thing she'd drunk comes straight back up again. Not half as good coming back up as it was going down. Hair falling everywhere, hanging onto the edge of the sink. ]
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I'm never doing this again. I do not care what you say about it.
[ It's a miserable cough, leaning heavily forward. ]
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[ He strokes her temple. ]
Not so quickly.
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Not a mistake I'll repeat.
[ He can go out and drink as much as he likes, she is never following in this particular endeavour. That much she is sure of. ]
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[ And - ]
I'm sorry.
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What for?
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It's my pride that did it. We both know that.
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It is not your fault. Besides, it was just a drink. No different to the others you... gave me. [ Wipes at her mouth, quick sharp movement. ] Besides, it is his fault for sending it to me.
[ As if - the world ever worked that way. To her mind, it should, as firmly as it didn't ever. ]
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[ His voice is a little dry. No, very different from the ones he gave her - but he'll not hurt her pride by revealing that tidbit. ]
How are you feeling?
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Tired. [ A miserable little laugh. ] Is it defeat to return home now? [ Later than she ever tried to stay out, but probably far earlier than he ever did. ]
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It is not only defeated generals who quit the battlefield; victorious ones must go too.
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Well then, my commander, you should take me home.
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Commander? On the contrary. I believe I'm the one who's ordered about.
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Perhaps we can pretend for a little while.
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