"Hypothetically," Bastien agrees with a sidelong look.
Hypothetically, it might not be the safest place for that. Safer, sure, than a couple streets over. He wouldn't mark her down for dead or anything. Marking her down for chasing her houseboat through the city because some smart-ass untied it on a dare the minute she left it unattended to go buy breakfast, though—that's a firm maybe.
But there's a war and the Waking Sea between that hypothetical and reality, so no need for practical details just yet. Only,
"If Val Royeaux is not a terrible place."
It certainly still has terrible parts. There's a chevalier just around the corner they're passing now, helmet off and tucked beneath his arm so he can display his beautiful strong-jawed face to the guardswoman he's flirting with. She looks amenable to the attention, at least, so that part's fine. They're both being watched by a pig-tailed preteen standing on the base of a street sign to see over the crowd, face askew in dislike—someone's lookout, for something. Could be something awful and either way it's none of their business, his and Gwenaëlle's, but Bastien touches two fingers to the brim of his cap on their way past. The girl gives him and his nondescriptly too-good-for-street-thieves clothes a wary double take, then a bit of a smile, before she resumes her very important work.
no subject
Hypothetically, it might not be the safest place for that. Safer, sure, than a couple streets over. He wouldn't mark her down for dead or anything. Marking her down for chasing her houseboat through the city because some smart-ass untied it on a dare the minute she left it unattended to go buy breakfast, though—that's a firm maybe.
But there's a war and the Waking Sea between that hypothetical and reality, so no need for practical details just yet. Only,
"If Val Royeaux is not a terrible place."
It certainly still has terrible parts. There's a chevalier just around the corner they're passing now, helmet off and tucked beneath his arm so he can display his beautiful strong-jawed face to the guardswoman he's flirting with. She looks amenable to the attention, at least, so that part's fine. They're both being watched by a pig-tailed preteen standing on the base of a street sign to see over the crowd, face askew in dislike—someone's lookout, for something. Could be something awful and either way it's none of their business, his and Gwenaëlle's, but Bastien touches two fingers to the brim of his cap on their way past. The girl gives him and his nondescriptly too-good-for-street-thieves clothes a wary double take, then a bit of a smile, before she resumes her very important work.