He nods in turn, something of an okay, fair enough, that doubles as agreement to set the book down on the mantle. He heads over and does so but lingers, intrigued equally by the painting, particularly, and the other titles.
"I've had reason to make time for it."
His fingers slide from the volume by Ventura to linger, briefly, on the spine of the poetry.
And then he turns back towards Flint, adding, "I don't know how much you know about it, but we've got a lot of refugees at our gates from Hasmal and Tantervale, plenty of them originally from Tevinter."
Or maybe Flint's seen, amidst his catching up, certain pamphlets floating around.
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"I've had reason to make time for it."
His fingers slide from the volume by Ventura to linger, briefly, on the spine of the poetry.
And then he turns back towards Flint, adding, "I don't know how much you know about it, but we've got a lot of refugees at our gates from Hasmal and Tantervale, plenty of them originally from Tevinter."
Or maybe Flint's seen, amidst his catching up, certain pamphlets floating around.