For a brief moment, Daan is quiet as he fills up the cup properly this time, all the way to the brim. The bottle is set down after Daan refills his own, and he considers a moment before he has a drink.
"I'm flexible in some respects," he decides to say. "Work, I take it seriously, but I realize I might come off as... unusual, in some regards. Friends, I'm pretty open for. Lovers..."
For a moment, he trails off. It could be less Astarion being nosy but also seeking something specific here. He wouldn't be the first. Might not even be the last, to be honest. Even if he hasn't had that lifestyle in quite sometime.
Anyway. He holds up his hand, holding it out at his leftmost.
"Let me put it this way. The range in pure theoretical. On one end of the spectrum, you have someone like Wyll. Terribly genuine, an idealist, and sometimes adorably naive." His hand moves in a line to end at the rightmost. "At the exact end of the other side, you have Lae'zel. Bloodthirsty, impatient, barely tolerating the rest of us. For personal tastes, I would say... just a notch before Lae'zel, in terms of standards? I like to think that's very lax."
"Nosey? I'm offended, darling. I much prefer to think of it as a healthy interest."
But yes, he's absolutely nosey, and if his expression is anything to go by he seems genuinely amused by Daan's description of his standards. Who'd have thought his tastes would range so widely — Gods, that they would run close to Lae'zel? It's excellent news for him, of course, as it suggests he'd be open enough to a silver-tongued rogue, which is really all Astarion needed to hear.
"How very curious," he all but purrs, before glancing across to the Gith'yanki's tent.
"I'm almost tempted to tell her that she could be in with a shot at you — but I suspect she wouldn't take kindly to any pointers I might offer on toning down her bloodthirsty, impatient side."
A silly, high-pitched chuckle escapes him as he lifts his cup to his lips, before indulging in a long sip of the pilfered mead.
"Although I have to say: I'm a little surprised. I'd thought most clerics would be a bit more ... discerning, in their tastes. Shadowheart, for example."
There's a soft huff before he goes to have his own swig from his cup, his eye trailing toward Lae'zel's tent. "Yes, tell her that and also you might as well tell the sky to stop being blue."
The comment about clerics makes him pause before finishing the contents of his cup.
"Yes, I imagine that would be true for most clerics, so... fiercely devoted to their gods and whatnot." Daan sets his cup down for now and shrugs. "Suffice it to say, I've been in a position more than a few times to expand my tastes. How fortunate the gods are so forgiving of debauchery so long as you do a few prayers and favors."
Yet, there is the slightest hint of distaste in Daan's voice concerning the pantheon. It isn't the mead talking either, for the cleric still seems suitably sober.
"Well, enough on me. And what about you? Specific tastes, or is it a free range?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
For a brief moment, Daan is quiet as he fills up the cup properly this time, all the way to the brim. The bottle is set down after Daan refills his own, and he considers a moment before he has a drink.
"I'm flexible in some respects," he decides to say. "Work, I take it seriously, but I realize I might come off as... unusual, in some regards. Friends, I'm pretty open for. Lovers..."
For a moment, he trails off. It could be less Astarion being nosy but also seeking something specific here. He wouldn't be the first. Might not even be the last, to be honest. Even if he hasn't had that lifestyle in quite sometime.
Anyway. He holds up his hand, holding it out at his leftmost.
"Let me put it this way. The range in pure theoretical. On one end of the spectrum, you have someone like Wyll. Terribly genuine, an idealist, and sometimes adorably naive." His hand moves in a line to end at the rightmost. "At the exact end of the other side, you have Lae'zel. Bloodthirsty, impatient, barely tolerating the rest of us. For personal tastes, I would say... just a notch before Lae'zel, in terms of standards? I like to think that's very lax."
no subject
"Nosey? I'm offended, darling. I much prefer to think of it as a healthy interest."
But yes, he's absolutely nosey, and if his expression is anything to go by he seems genuinely amused by Daan's description of his standards. Who'd have thought his tastes would range so widely — Gods, that they would run close to Lae'zel? It's excellent news for him, of course, as it suggests he'd be open enough to a silver-tongued rogue, which is really all Astarion needed to hear.
"How very curious," he all but purrs, before glancing across to the Gith'yanki's tent.
"I'm almost tempted to tell her that she could be in with a shot at you — but I suspect she wouldn't take kindly to any pointers I might offer on toning down her bloodthirsty, impatient side."
A silly, high-pitched chuckle escapes him as he lifts his cup to his lips, before indulging in a long sip of the pilfered mead.
"Although I have to say: I'm a little surprised. I'd thought most clerics would be a bit more ... discerning, in their tastes. Shadowheart, for example."
Pricklier than a manticore, that one.
no subject
The comment about clerics makes him pause before finishing the contents of his cup.
"Yes, I imagine that would be true for most clerics, so... fiercely devoted to their gods and whatnot." Daan sets his cup down for now and shrugs. "Suffice it to say, I've been in a position more than a few times to expand my tastes. How fortunate the gods are so forgiving of debauchery so long as you do a few prayers and favors."
Yet, there is the slightest hint of distaste in Daan's voice concerning the pantheon. It isn't the mead talking either, for the cleric still seems suitably sober.
"Well, enough on me. And what about you? Specific tastes, or is it a free range?"