The invitation is very clear. There is a beat of stillness in the wake of it as Ellis looks at Astarion and takes the measure of everything set before him. It's a very particular tableau: a beautiful man, a good meal, what promises to be a very fine wine to drink. Things that tempted, once.
That still tempt, apparently.
The passing flicker of interest comes to him like a hand reaching out of the dark, catching him by the ankle. But his scrutiny still lapses into a shake of the head, signaling no before Ellis has dredged up the words for it.
His hands had flexed over the back of the chair they'd come to settle upon. Now they lift away. (That he's paused at all, that it took time to consider—)
"It's a generous offer," is a true thing, rather than a politeness. "But I can't."
Shouldn't. Won't. There's a complicated snarl of reasoning behind it.
"I've an obligation," is a true thing too. "Guard duty with Kirkwall's dock patrol. You'll have to forgive me."
no subject
That still tempt, apparently.
The passing flicker of interest comes to him like a hand reaching out of the dark, catching him by the ankle. But his scrutiny still lapses into a shake of the head, signaling no before Ellis has dredged up the words for it.
His hands had flexed over the back of the chair they'd come to settle upon. Now they lift away. (That he's paused at all, that it took time to consider—)
"It's a generous offer," is a true thing, rather than a politeness. "But I can't."
Shouldn't. Won't. There's a complicated snarl of reasoning behind it.
"I've an obligation," is a true thing too. "Guard duty with Kirkwall's dock patrol. You'll have to forgive me."