Alistair sees Zevran a few times throughout the day and grins at him from a distance—maybe a little smug and smirky, especially if he's being given gifts or fawned over at the time—but otherwise he leaves him alone with his various admirers and entertainers. Friends. Ha.
But that evening he lays claim to the bedroom early, before Zevran And His Various Admirers And Entertainers can get any bright ideas about socking the door, and waits up with covered dinner plates kept warm by the brazier for as long as it takes. Not even the quiet can dampen his mood. He distracts himself from the song in his head by sitting on the floor and baby-talking to Doghren, mostly, but at the first sound of someone unlocking the door, he stops and tries very hard to look manly and disinterested in the puppy.
"Goooood evening," he says, showily. There's dinner, there's the fact that the room is cleaner than usual, there's the fact that Doghren smells decent, and there's something in Alistair's pocket. That's all he's got. But he looks pleased with himself anyway.
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But that evening he lays claim to the bedroom early, before Zevran And His Various Admirers And Entertainers can get any bright ideas about socking the door, and waits up with covered dinner plates kept warm by the brazier for as long as it takes. Not even the quiet can dampen his mood. He distracts himself from the song in his head by sitting on the floor and baby-talking to Doghren, mostly, but at the first sound of someone unlocking the door, he stops and tries very hard to look manly and disinterested in the puppy.
"Goooood evening," he says, showily. There's dinner, there's the fact that the room is cleaner than usual, there's the fact that Doghren smells decent, and there's something in Alistair's pocket. That's all he's got. But he looks pleased with himself anyway.