[ Of course Gale waxes poetic about himself. No one else is going to do it for him.
Sunnily, before he's fully grasped the intent behind Astarion's words: ] That's where we differ. The detective is married only to his job, a true bachelor— [ Then, as his mind catches up with his mouth, he stops himself, bristling in offense. ] Oh.
[ He splutters for a moment, uncertain how to respond to such a disrespectful notion. Leave it to Astarion to blaspheme so flippantly. ]
Mystra is no longer my paramour, thank you, [ he finally clarifies, as if this is somehow important. Their relationship is over and he's being so mature about it. ] And I know you've no love for the natural order of things, but to claim her beneath any mortal is preposterous. She's the very essence of magic. Power incarnate.
[ It's amusing, to watch the expression flicker across the wizard's face as he processes what Astarion has said, and he waves his hand. He doesn't much care what Mystra does or does not think about him; much like many of the other Gods in this realm, she had not responded to any of his cries for aid or his prayers. Thus, he has no time for her now, and will not engage in any worship of her being, no matter the intent.
It seems as though Gale has entirely missed his attempt at being complimentary. He sighs, tilting his head and barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. ]
That is likely for the best. What I said a moment ago? Repeat that.
[ Blah, blah, Gale is better off without her from what little he has heard, can make his own choices, and so forth. ]
That does not mean she is better than you simply because she has power. I can assure you, there are many men more powerful than me who are far less charming and fun to be around.
[ Gale scoffs, incredulous at Astarion's boldness to compare the Mother of Magic to simply 'powerful' (and apparently charmless and boring) men. He shakes his head again, unable to even quip back at Astarion's immodest claims. They'll have to go unchallenged for now.
Frustration at being at cross purposes worms its way into his voice. ] You misunderstand. Mystra is not only powerful, she is power.
[ An unimportant distinction to some, but everything to him. She's the embodiment of the Weave. The thing that gives his life purpose. The only reason Gale even matters. He would be a fool not to worship her. ]
Without Mystra, there is no Gale of Waterdeep. [ Metaphorically. Literally, there may be no Gale with her soon enough, but that's another story. ]
[ Astarion watches him, expression darker now. This is taking a turn he didn't imagine with his idle prodding at Mystra, but... The book is clutched a little tighter in his hands. There's too much here for him alone to unpick, but the familiarity of it all makes the anger inside of him burn a little brighter. He remembers how it felt, crawling out of his own grave to peer out at the night sky, to see Cazador looming over him, feeling stronger and better at first, but...
Cazador is power. Mystra is power. Not the same kind, but they're both bound in the same way, are they not? ]
Would you say the same of me, I wonder? Without Cazador, there is no Astarion. Is that true, Gale of Waterdeep?
[ Gale's eyes widen, a flash of repulsion welling up inside him at hearing Astarion say this — then, anger at the mere insinuation. Astarion's really batting a thousand today when it comes to offending him.
He throws his hands up, exasperated. ]
Hells, Astarion. I think you know very well I would never even think to utter such vile words.
[ Because they aren't true. Astarion's right: he's charming and fun to be around, if caught in the right mood. Cunning. Eloquent. Unfortunately indispensable in a battle and out of it. A fair bit more than just 'rakish', and none of it thanks to Cazador. ]
[ Astarion’s track record of irritating their local wizard continues, it seems, but he’s not at all offended by this particular anger. It has taken him a long time to come to terms with the twisted relationship he has with Cazador, if you could call it that, and he can recognise the echoes of it. Gale choosing, in some ways, to have this relationship doesn’t make it better.
He doesn’t actually want to continue upsetting Gale, however. Not right now, when he’s picking at a sore wound. ]
I’m sure you can understand the point I’m trying to make. I’ll not go into the details.
[He will, however, take the compliments if and when they’re offered. ]
[ Thank the Gods Astarion doesn't push any further — simply talking about this conjures a sense of disquietude in Gale. He understands Astarion's point perfectly, but it's different for him in ways Astarion couldn't possibly comprehend. Cazador was Astarion's tormentor and jailer; Mystra, on the other hand, made Gale feel loved, important, worthwhile. He'd do anything to feel like that again.
He physically deflates, metaphorical hackles lowering as he boxes up all of his feelings and shoves them into a dusty corner of his mind. No need to lose his cool, nor dwell on this at all.
Willing away any remnants of unpleasant emotions, he says, ] Careful. Continue on this way, and one might get the impression you care. Your reputation would be in absolute shambles.
[ At least Astarion knows one thing: Cazador would never claim to love his spawn. He tortured them, used their screams for poetry and tormented them, abused his power over them and turned them into broken monsters, but the term love was never part of the equation. He's not sure that he could begin to imagine what the feeling is like, if he's being truthful.
Watching Gale for a while, he takes note of the body language, how careful he is, and tucks it away. Prodding for another time, perhaps, once he's learned a little more, once they've found themselves inevitably closer. Time travelling together has a way of working wonders like that. ]
We can't have that, can we? I'd end up with people thinking I'm, ugh, nice.
[ He shakes his head, scowling. ]
I'll read the book, but if this character is less appealing than you've made him seen I will be furious.
[ Gale feels himself relax now that the conversation topic's moved away from a sore spot. If he had to choose, he'd rather Astarion rant at him all day about how boring his pick of novels was. At least his dramatic flair would make it interesting. ]
And rightfully so. [ Life's too short to read bad books. Particularly their lives, which risk being cut very short via brain worm every day. ] I welcome hearing your enjoyment or your fury.
[ He knows which he'd prefer, of course, but he won't turn down a lively discussion when it's presented to him. After all, he considers himself an excellent debater. ]
But perhaps you'd be more drawn to the detective's usual quarry instead. A notorious thief; as guileful as a fox, but as mannered as a gentleman. A trickster to be sure, yet there's a certain charm.
No, no, you want me to read this thing and enjoy it as much as you did, don't lie to me. You're a terribly open book when it comes to literature, Gale, and I'm sure this is no different.
[ Astarion thinks back to the few items of novelty he was permitted to read when he was with Cazador - his Master enjoyed reading, but rarely shared it with his spawn. It wasn't their place to indulge in reading, or enjoyment, it was their place to be subservient, to go out and find things for them. He's read enough books to know a good one, but he'd hardly say that he's well-read.
His fingers tap, tap, tap absently on the cover of the book. ]
Ah, so your intent is revealed at least. You are the main character, and I am the quarry, the well-mannered trickster that is to be hunted. Anyone would imagine you have an ulterior motive.
[ Gale folds his hands behind his back, smiling sweetly, the very picture of innocence. ]
I have no idea what you mean.
[ Ulterior motive? Him? Never! His pick was entirely altruistic, merely for Astarion's enjoyment. If there's a certain similarity between the characters and themselves, that's purely coincidental. If their unlikely relationship plants the idea in Astarion's head that he should be nicer to Gale, it's a happy accident. ]
But if it soothes your worries, I assure you, they share the limelight. Soon enough, the cat-and-mouse game is put aside for much greater concerns.
Of course you don't. We could never believe the intelligent, masterful Gale of Waterdeep be oblivious to something.
[ Shaking his head, he sighs softly. Perhaps he will enjoy the book. Perhaps not. Either way, he wonders just what he will learn about Gale from reading it - especially if he identifies with it so much. Curious. ]
Do you intend to spoil the entire novel, or might I get a chance to read it?
You know, some would argue that hearing the story from the mouth of the 'intelligent, masterful Gale of Waterdeep' is a luxury.
[ It's him; he's some. He raises his hands, palms out, in a gesture of defeat. ]
But fine — have it your way.
[ He mimes locking up his mouth and throwing away the key. Astarion shall get no more spoilers out of him, no matter how difficult it is not to spoil the entire story right now. He loves to hear his own opinions, and even more so to tell others what their opinions should be. Quite frankly, he deserves a medal for not spoiling more.
With a hand over his heard, and sickening sincerity: ] I shall wait with bated breath for your thoughts.
Those people have not enjoyed an evening of silence with a rather wonderful bottle of wine.
[ Astarion will never be some, not unless there is some benefit for him - such as Gale giving him said bottle of wine, or offering him something worthwhile. Another time, perhaps.
It would be so easy, Astarion thinks, to make light of this, to not bother reading the book at all and pretend as though it is the worst drivel he has ever read, but unfortunately he has read some of the rambles of his fellow spawn. Any written work will be better than the rattling thoughts of someone lacking enough braincells to be considered sentient, so he must relent.
He is going to have to read the blasted book.
Heaving a dramatic sigh, he bows his head as if in defeat. ]
[ And he does, peeking over the pages of his own books around the campfire to check if Astarion's reading. Idly wondering if Astarion's made it to his favorite chapter yet as he chops whatever ingredients they've managed to scavenge for dinner. Curious if, if this is a success, he might be able to push another book onto Astarion. It's probably a coping mechanism — focus on the one small, relatively normal thing in his life than the looming doom ahead of them. It's certainly more pleasant lying awake at night wondering if Astarion has figured out who the real killer is than thinking about his own impending death.
He gives Astarion exactly a week. It's an easy read, chronicling the tale of Lucien, the aforementioned debonair criminal, and the detective on his tail. It's obvious to see why Gale has a fondness for the detective character; his deduction and reasoning borders on preternatural, and he's always the smartest one in any given conversation, the way Gale imagines himself to be. It's primarily a mystery, one in which the characters get swept up in when they're falsely accused of a string of murders by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It has its fair share of thrills, but just enough character development and relational moments to leave one wanting more — at least, if you're Gale. By the end of the story, the main characters have caught the true killer, the captain of the guard himself. Quite shocking, unless you're Gale, who proudly figured it out before the reveal.
At the end of the week, he strolls up to Astarion's tent, bright and sunny as if they weren't nearly killed by cultists earlier that day. At this point, it's such an everyday occurrence it hardly merits a mention. ]
I do believe your loan is up from the Wizard of Waterdeep Public Library.
He's been around long enough (and, as a former magistrate, dealt with enough criminals) that he had managed to figure out some of the twists and turns of the plot before he had reached the end of the book, but that did not necessarily make it a bad read. It was not so predictable that he was bored, but the plot clues were laid out in such a way a smart reader could find them, and that is what he had done - found them. It was a decent enough way to spend some of the hours of the night, when his companions slept.
Only needing half the time, it did certainly give him a touch more free time to waste on novels.
The next enjoyable thing about having the book is the fact that he finishes it within a few days, and then starts a new game: how long will Gale wait before demanding the book back. Astarion imagines a single week truly will be the limit, as he had promised, but he's entertained by the idea of Gale watching him finish the book and pouncing on him for his opinions immediately, like a predator hiding in the bushes. Either way, he lets himself draw it out until he's approached, and he almost looks petulant about it. ]
Oh? Has it been a week already?
[ Obviously. Astarion is back in his usual camp gear, a hole in the sleeve of his shirt that he's been frowning at for the last hour. Time for the needle and thread, it seems. ]
[ He's not quite sure what he expected, but he does know what he had hoped for, and it wasn't this. Patience is not one of Gale's virtues, and he waited a long, slow week for this. He certainly didn't do so for Astarion to pay more attention to his shirt than to him. He waits in expectant silence, letting it drag out until it's clear Astarion doesn't plan to offer any more insights. ]
Well, my aim in visiting wasn't so much to collect the book.
[ There's an unspoken 'hint, hint!' at the end of that sentence. Surely, Astarion has some opinions on what he just read. Truly, the only thing more unpleasant than Astarion bashing the novel would be for him to have absolutely no opinion at all.
He waits another moment, then gives up on subtlety altogether. ]
I hope you don't intend to make me drag your thoughts out of you.
[ It's almost too easy, really; all he has to do is draw this out, and he can practically see Gale begin to vibrate with how much he wants to discuss the literature. He steps back inside his tent to pick the book up, checking to make sure it's still in good condition - it is - before he returns, holding it out with a soft twitch of his smile. More deliberate waiting, more deliberate teasing, because it is just so fun.
He waits, and waits, and then, of course, Gale bursts, and Astarion can't help huffing a little laugh. ]
There are far more enjoyable things to drag out of me.
[ Flirt, flirt, just because he can. He sighs, almost rolling his eyes but resisting the urge. ]
[ The anticipation is so excruciating that by the time Astarion finally admits his enjoyment, Gale practically ignites in excitement. ]
Yes! I knew it.
[ He bursts into a delighted grin, feeling very proud of himself. For a moment, he's all but patting himself on the back — before he realizes just how very much he's being and pulls back, straightening up a little and clearing his throat. He can't suppress the self-congratulatory smile on his face as he reaches out to take the book back, though.
Suffice it to say, he's very happy indeed. ]
You know, this is the part in a pleasant conversation where you might compliment my taste.
[ He doesn't think Astarion will do it on his own, so he'll have to try and browbeat him into it instead. ]
[ It's like giving a child something sweet before bedtime, isn't it? ]
Of course, because your taste is so impeccable.
[ It's so tedious, watching him be fuelled by such delight, and if Astarion wasn't enjoying it, just the smallest amount he might be a little more sour about it. Thankfully, he manages to force a little smile on his face, waving his hand. It also helps that Gale is attempting to restrain himself just a little bit, which eases some of his irritation.
Just like a child. ]
It was fine. I enjoyed the read, despite the predictability of the plot, and the characters were fine.
[ Gale inspects the book thoroughly, flipping through the pages looking for rips, stains, or Gods forbid, blood — he hopes Astarion had the presence of mind not to take his meals anywhere near it. All seems to be in order, and his smile only grows... only for his joy to be unceremoniously stomped on by the word 'fine'. Quite possibly one of the worst words in the Common language, as far as Gale's concerned.
He glances up from the book, scoffing in disbelief. ]
'Fine'? Fine.
[ He shakes his head, disappointed. ]
You've every word in our vast language to paint a picture of your thoughts, and you choose 'fine'.
[ Sometimes, he wonders if Astarion is purposefully trying to irritate or if it just comes naturally to him. He snaps the book shut, holding it to his chest. ]
Tell me, then. Which part of it was the most fine?
[ He thinks he should be offended at the way that Gale immediately examines the book, as if Astarion would dare harm and as if he hadn't been watching the entire time the book had been read. It's almost enough irritation to make the gleeful feeling of joy from Gale's reaction dissipate, but some things can't be ignored. He almost claps his hands together with his excitement.
It's so easy. ]
That is what I said. Are you having issues with your hearing? It must be all that terrible, loud magic you do.
[ Painfully easy. He doesn't have to try, and unfortunately that makes some of his excitement drip away. ]
Yes, because it was the word most likely to have you huffing like a toddler, and I was right.
I do not 'huff like a toddler'. It's more so a dignified sigh in the face of incorrigible behavior — if you must know, [ he says, a deliberate copy of Astarion simply to be, well, incorrigible.
Astarion may be tailor-made to perfectly get his goat, but that just makes Gale want him to praise the book (and, by proxy, Gale for choosing it) all the more. He should be downright effusive right now. Actually, it's quite rude that he isn't. ]
And the characters? Perhaps you might share with the class what made them so fine.
Yes, yes, I've spent enough time with arrogant vampires to recognise a huff, thank you very much.
[ As novel as it might be to tease and nudge Gale, to cause him problem upon problem, he does have to admit that the book was a decent recommendation. He can't exactly lie about having enjoyed it, not when he had, and he doubts he would be entirely believed anyway.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he sighs instead. ]
The main character was tolerable, given the fact that all I could picture was you, thanks to your determination to compare yourself. It was easy enough to figure out the conclusion, though I believe that was intentional for the more wise of readers. Plot points were written with care.
[ His expression twists into one of frustration. ]
[ Ah, 'tolerable' — truly the refrain of Gale's life. He resolves to take it in stride. There are many great things in this world that are merely tolerable to those who haven't the inclination to understand them. He likes to think of himself as one of those great things. An acquired taste, like a fine wine. Or perhaps a particularly pungent cheese.
Despite Astarion's rather dispassionate review, he finds himself glowing with the delight of a job well done. He thinks he's known Astarion long enough to know this is probably as gushing as his evaluation is going to get. In Astarionese, he imagines this is probably something like, 'Oh, Gale, this was a life-changing experience. You're the smartest, most interesting person in the entire world.'
Something like that. He may have used a little bit of artistic license, but the sentiment is surely there. ]
Happy? [ Obviously. It's written all over his face, but he makes a poor attempt at acting disinterested. ] I suppose I'm... 'fine'.
[ Maybe Astarion had a point about him acting like a toddler, but he won't be examining that. ]
Have you any feedback for next time, then?
[ He stares with expectant sincerity, having already decided on his own that, of course, there will be a next time. The possibility that Astarion wouldn't want to be book buddies hasn't even crossed his mind. Despite the worry for his book's safety, the endless anticipation, and Astarion's irritating review... it was fun. ]
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Sunnily, before he's fully grasped the intent behind Astarion's words: ] That's where we differ. The detective is married only to his job, a true bachelor— [ Then, as his mind catches up with his mouth, he stops himself, bristling in offense. ] Oh.
[ He splutters for a moment, uncertain how to respond to such a disrespectful notion. Leave it to Astarion to blaspheme so flippantly. ]
Mystra is no longer my paramour, thank you, [ he finally clarifies, as if this is somehow important. Their relationship is over and he's being so mature about it. ] And I know you've no love for the natural order of things, but to claim her beneath any mortal is preposterous. She's the very essence of magic. Power incarnate.
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It seems as though Gale has entirely missed his attempt at being complimentary. He sighs, tilting his head and barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. ]
That is likely for the best. What I said a moment ago? Repeat that.
[ Blah, blah, Gale is better off without her from what little he has heard, can make his own choices, and so forth. ]
That does not mean she is better than you simply because she has power. I can assure you, there are many men more powerful than me who are far less charming and fun to be around.
[ Like, you know, vampire lords. ]
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Frustration at being at cross purposes worms its way into his voice. ] You misunderstand. Mystra is not only powerful, she is power.
[ An unimportant distinction to some, but everything to him. She's the embodiment of the Weave. The thing that gives his life purpose. The only reason Gale even matters. He would be a fool not to worship her. ]
Without Mystra, there is no Gale of Waterdeep. [ Metaphorically. Literally, there may be no Gale with her soon enough, but that's another story. ]
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[ Astarion watches him, expression darker now. This is taking a turn he didn't imagine with his idle prodding at Mystra, but... The book is clutched a little tighter in his hands. There's too much here for him alone to unpick, but the familiarity of it all makes the anger inside of him burn a little brighter. He remembers how it felt, crawling out of his own grave to peer out at the night sky, to see Cazador looming over him, feeling stronger and better at first, but...
Cazador is power. Mystra is power. Not the same kind, but they're both bound in the same way, are they not? ]
Would you say the same of me, I wonder? Without Cazador, there is no Astarion. Is that true, Gale of Waterdeep?
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He throws his hands up, exasperated. ]
Hells, Astarion. I think you know very well I would never even think to utter such vile words.
[ Because they aren't true. Astarion's right: he's charming and fun to be around, if caught in the right mood. Cunning. Eloquent. Unfortunately indispensable in a battle and out of it. A fair bit more than just 'rakish', and none of it thanks to Cazador. ]
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He doesn’t actually want to continue upsetting Gale, however. Not right now, when he’s picking at a sore wound. ]
I’m sure you can understand the point I’m trying to make. I’ll not go into the details.
[He will, however, take the compliments if and when they’re offered. ]
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He physically deflates, metaphorical hackles lowering as he boxes up all of his feelings and shoves them into a dusty corner of his mind. No need to lose his cool, nor dwell on this at all.
Willing away any remnants of unpleasant emotions, he says, ] Careful. Continue on this way, and one might get the impression you care. Your reputation would be in absolute shambles.
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Watching Gale for a while, he takes note of the body language, how careful he is, and tucks it away. Prodding for another time, perhaps, once he's learned a little more, once they've found themselves inevitably closer. Time travelling together has a way of working wonders like that. ]
We can't have that, can we? I'd end up with people thinking I'm, ugh, nice.
[ He shakes his head, scowling. ]
I'll read the book, but if this character is less appealing than you've made him seen I will be furious.
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And rightfully so. [ Life's too short to read bad books. Particularly their lives, which risk being cut very short via brain worm every day. ] I welcome hearing your enjoyment or your fury.
[ He knows which he'd prefer, of course, but he won't turn down a lively discussion when it's presented to him. After all, he considers himself an excellent debater. ]
But perhaps you'd be more drawn to the detective's usual quarry instead. A notorious thief; as guileful as a fox, but as mannered as a gentleman. A trickster to be sure, yet there's a certain charm.
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[ Astarion thinks back to the few items of novelty he was permitted to read when he was with Cazador - his Master enjoyed reading, but rarely shared it with his spawn. It wasn't their place to indulge in reading, or enjoyment, it was their place to be subservient, to go out and find things for them. He's read enough books to know a good one, but he'd hardly say that he's well-read.
His fingers tap, tap, tap absently on the cover of the book. ]
Ah, so your intent is revealed at least. You are the main character, and I am the quarry, the well-mannered trickster that is to be hunted. Anyone would imagine you have an ulterior motive.
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I have no idea what you mean.
[ Ulterior motive? Him? Never! His pick was entirely altruistic, merely for Astarion's enjoyment. If there's a certain similarity between the characters and themselves, that's purely coincidental. If their unlikely relationship plants the idea in Astarion's head that he should be nicer to Gale, it's a happy accident. ]
But if it soothes your worries, I assure you, they share the limelight. Soon enough, the cat-and-mouse game is put aside for much greater concerns.
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Of course you don't. We could never believe the intelligent, masterful Gale of Waterdeep be oblivious to something.
[ Shaking his head, he sighs softly. Perhaps he will enjoy the book. Perhaps not. Either way, he wonders just what he will learn about Gale from reading it - especially if he identifies with it so much. Curious. ]
Do you intend to spoil the entire novel, or might I get a chance to read it?
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[ It's him; he's some. He raises his hands, palms out, in a gesture of defeat. ]
But fine — have it your way.
[ He mimes locking up his mouth and throwing away the key. Astarion shall get no more spoilers out of him, no matter how difficult it is not to spoil the entire story right now. He loves to hear his own opinions, and even more so to tell others what their opinions should be. Quite frankly, he deserves a medal for not spoiling more.
With a hand over his heard, and sickening sincerity: ] I shall wait with bated breath for your thoughts.
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[ Astarion will never be some, not unless there is some benefit for him - such as Gale giving him said bottle of wine, or offering him something worthwhile. Another time, perhaps.
It would be so easy, Astarion thinks, to make light of this, to not bother reading the book at all and pretend as though it is the worst drivel he has ever read, but unfortunately he has read some of the rambles of his fellow spawn. Any written work will be better than the rattling thoughts of someone lacking enough braincells to be considered sentient, so he must relent.
He is going to have to read the blasted book.
Heaving a dramatic sigh, he bows his head as if in defeat. ]
A week, then, and I shall return with my verdict.
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[ And he does, peeking over the pages of his own books around the campfire to check if Astarion's reading. Idly wondering if Astarion's made it to his favorite chapter yet as he chops whatever ingredients they've managed to scavenge for dinner. Curious if, if this is a success, he might be able to push another book onto Astarion. It's probably a coping mechanism — focus on the one small, relatively normal thing in his life than the looming doom ahead of them. It's certainly more pleasant lying awake at night wondering if Astarion has figured out who the real killer is than thinking about his own impending death.
He gives Astarion exactly a week. It's an easy read, chronicling the tale of Lucien, the aforementioned debonair criminal, and the detective on his tail. It's obvious to see why Gale has a fondness for the detective character; his deduction and reasoning borders on preternatural, and he's always the smartest one in any given conversation, the way Gale imagines himself to be. It's primarily a mystery, one in which the characters get swept up in when they're falsely accused of a string of murders by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It has its fair share of thrills, but just enough character development and relational moments to leave one wanting more — at least, if you're Gale. By the end of the story, the main characters have caught the true killer, the captain of the guard himself. Quite shocking, unless you're Gale, who proudly figured it out before the reveal.
At the end of the week, he strolls up to Astarion's tent, bright and sunny as if they weren't nearly killed by cultists earlier that day. At this point, it's such an everyday occurrence it hardly merits a mention. ]
I do believe your loan is up from the Wizard of Waterdeep Public Library.
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He's been around long enough (and, as a former magistrate, dealt with enough criminals) that he had managed to figure out some of the twists and turns of the plot before he had reached the end of the book, but that did not necessarily make it a bad read. It was not so predictable that he was bored, but the plot clues were laid out in such a way a smart reader could find them, and that is what he had done - found them. It was a decent enough way to spend some of the hours of the night, when his companions slept.
Only needing half the time, it did certainly give him a touch more free time to waste on novels.
The next enjoyable thing about having the book is the fact that he finishes it within a few days, and then starts a new game: how long will Gale wait before demanding the book back. Astarion imagines a single week truly will be the limit, as he had promised, but he's entertained by the idea of Gale watching him finish the book and pouncing on him for his opinions immediately, like a predator hiding in the bushes. Either way, he lets himself draw it out until he's approached, and he almost looks petulant about it. ]
Oh? Has it been a week already?
[ Obviously. Astarion is back in his usual camp gear, a hole in the sleeve of his shirt that he's been frowning at for the last hour. Time for the needle and thread, it seems. ]
Very well. Have your book back.
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Well, my aim in visiting wasn't so much to collect the book.
[ There's an unspoken 'hint, hint!' at the end of that sentence. Surely, Astarion has some opinions on what he just read. Truly, the only thing more unpleasant than Astarion bashing the novel would be for him to have absolutely no opinion at all.
He waits another moment, then gives up on subtlety altogether. ]
I hope you don't intend to make me drag your thoughts out of you.
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He waits, and waits, and then, of course, Gale bursts, and Astarion can't help huffing a little laugh. ]
There are far more enjoyable things to drag out of me.
[ Flirt, flirt, just because he can. He sighs, almost rolling his eyes but resisting the urge. ]
Yes, alright. I liked it, are you happy?
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Yes! I knew it.
[ He bursts into a delighted grin, feeling very proud of himself. For a moment, he's all but patting himself on the back — before he realizes just how very much he's being and pulls back, straightening up a little and clearing his throat. He can't suppress the self-congratulatory smile on his face as he reaches out to take the book back, though.
Suffice it to say, he's very happy indeed. ]
You know, this is the part in a pleasant conversation where you might compliment my taste.
[ He doesn't think Astarion will do it on his own, so he'll have to try and browbeat him into it instead. ]
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Of course, because your taste is so impeccable.
[ It's so tedious, watching him be fuelled by such delight, and if Astarion wasn't enjoying it, just the smallest amount he might be a little more sour about it. Thankfully, he manages to force a little smile on his face, waving his hand. It also helps that Gale is attempting to restrain himself just a little bit, which eases some of his irritation.
Just like a child. ]
It was fine. I enjoyed the read, despite the predictability of the plot, and the characters were fine.
[ Which is high praise, really, from him. ]
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He glances up from the book, scoffing in disbelief. ]
'Fine'? Fine.
[ He shakes his head, disappointed. ]
You've every word in our vast language to paint a picture of your thoughts, and you choose 'fine'.
[ Sometimes, he wonders if Astarion is purposefully trying to irritate or if it just comes naturally to him. He snaps the book shut, holding it to his chest. ]
Tell me, then. Which part of it was the most fine?
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It's so easy. ]
That is what I said. Are you having issues with your hearing? It must be all that terrible, loud magic you do.
[ Painfully easy. He doesn't have to try, and unfortunately that makes some of his excitement drip away. ]
Yes, because it was the word most likely to have you huffing like a toddler, and I was right.
[ Crossing his arms, he scowls a little. ]
I enjoyed the ending, if you must know.
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I do not 'huff like a toddler'. It's more so a dignified sigh in the face of incorrigible behavior — if you must know, [ he says, a deliberate copy of Astarion simply to be, well, incorrigible.
Astarion may be tailor-made to perfectly get his goat, but that just makes Gale want him to praise the book (and, by proxy, Gale for choosing it) all the more. He should be downright effusive right now. Actually, it's quite rude that he isn't. ]
And the characters? Perhaps you might share with the class what made them so fine.
[ It's like pulling teeth. ]
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[ As novel as it might be to tease and nudge Gale, to cause him problem upon problem, he does have to admit that the book was a decent recommendation. He can't exactly lie about having enjoyed it, not when he had, and he doubts he would be entirely believed anyway.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he sighs instead. ]
The main character was tolerable, given the fact that all I could picture was you, thanks to your determination to compare yourself. It was easy enough to figure out the conclusion, though I believe that was intentional for the more wise of readers. Plot points were written with care.
[ His expression twists into one of frustration. ]
Happy?
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Despite Astarion's rather dispassionate review, he finds himself glowing with the delight of a job well done. He thinks he's known Astarion long enough to know this is probably as gushing as his evaluation is going to get. In Astarionese, he imagines this is probably something like, 'Oh, Gale, this was a life-changing experience. You're the smartest, most interesting person in the entire world.'
Something like that. He may have used a little bit of artistic license, but the sentiment is surely there. ]
Happy? [ Obviously. It's written all over his face, but he makes a poor attempt at acting disinterested. ] I suppose I'm... 'fine'.
[ Maybe Astarion had a point about him acting like a toddler, but he won't be examining that. ]
Have you any feedback for next time, then?
[ He stares with expectant sincerity, having already decided on his own that, of course, there will be a next time. The possibility that Astarion wouldn't want to be book buddies hasn't even crossed his mind. Despite the worry for his book's safety, the endless anticipation, and Astarion's irritating review... it was fun. ]
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