Author's note: I will drown all of you in angst until you pay me! [evil laughter]
Part 6
Even the Damned
Entreri could actually see the question taking form, building up steam, confidence, bubbling up and finally forming words in her mouth.
"Are we there yet?" Sam asked, hopefully.
"Sam… it'd be at least a week. These things don't actually move very fast, depending on the weather, and we'd have to stop to refuel at Amn." Entreri had said this so many times that it'd become automatic.
"So where are we now?"
"Over some miscellaneous desert." Entreri did not like deserts, the wide expanses not only being far too hot, but also possessing far too few hiding places. At least, now that it was night, he couldn't see that much into the darkness, and could delude himself into thinking that he wasn't over the desert.
"How long have we been riding?" Sam seemed so despondent that Entreri picked her up, allowing little hands to encircle his neck.
"Two days," Entreri said comfortingly. "Didn't you say you liked flying?"
"Yes, but… so we're nearly halfway there?"
"I don't think so," Entreri said mildly, "I don't see Amn anywhere."
Sam sighed. "It's so boring!"
"Why don't you go and talk to
Jarlaxle? I'm sure he has something for you to do." Jarlaxle was strangely
adept at producing little items of interest – a cube of colours that shifted
when turned, little annoying puzzles that always drove Entreri nuts whenever he
tried to attempt one, and the odd magical jigsaw. Jarlaxle said they were to ease his own boredom, but Entreri had
never seen him play with them.
"He said he was going to talk with Kimmuriel for a while, so I wasn't to disturb him." Sam replied, wrinkling her brow. "I wonder what they do together. It always seems to take forever."
Entreri winced inwardly, knowing quite well what that was. "Well… it's probably work."
"Then why won't he talk to me if it's just that? You talk to me when you're working all the time."
"It's secret work, then," Entreri corrected hastily. "And probably very boring."
"Really?"
"Work is always boring," Entreri assured her, hoping that someday he'd get to kill Jarlaxle for this.
"Zaknafein says you're lying," Sam said suddenly, her eyes widening. They both knew that this was surprising – Zaknafein had shut himself out of the outside world since his… declaration… and despite what they both tried to say to him, he had ignored them. Even a little self-conscious angsting on Entreri's part had only served to give the assassin an acute feeling of embarrassment. He was definitely not suited for angst.
"Why would he say that?" Entreri asked, carefully, hoping none of the anxiety in his voice turned up.
"He says… you know exactly what they are doing," Sam said, taking his cue. "So what's that?"
"Uh… tell Zaknafein it can also be counted as a form of work."
"He said he can hear you very well… and in that case, it'd hardly be called 'very boring'."
"Well…" Entreri groped for something to say, "Er. It was just… well, whatever they're doing, it's private."
"Oh, okay," Sam said, puzzled. "But they must be having fun."
"Jarlaxle is, at least," Entreri muttered before he could stop himself. "Can I speak to Zaknafein face to face?"
"Um," Sam frowned, and then looked a little worried. "Sorry about this… but he says he has nothing to say to you… and he's gone now." She stared up at the assassin helplessly. "I don't understand him."
Entreri sighed, staring blindly into the darkness. "Why?"
"Well, he said he loved you. So why is he avoiding you?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Entreri asked, managing to keep the irritation out of his voice. "I guess sometimes people do that. I spent most of my life studying swordplay, not romance."
"He's feeling hurt about something, but I don't know what, and he won't tell. I'm getting really confused."
Entreri didn't have anything to say to that, and he looked down at his gauntleted hand, eyes tracing the confusing details, interwoven metallic strands twisting and turning into something quite disturbing… and felt better. It always calmed him, the artefact attached permanently to his hand – its weight and permanent cold always served to remind him of his own existence. "Let's go in. What if I tell you a story?"
"Okay," Sam brightened up.
The assassin moved carefully over the deck, nodding to the mages, then moved inside, habitually walking down precisely over the support on the stairs such that nothing creaked, then finding his room along plush, carpeted corridors.
When entering, Sam, as if having thought long about it, asked curiously, "If you love him, why can't you say it?"
Entreri grimaced. Sam had a terrible habit of saying the most painful things right when you weren't expecting it. The assassin put her on the ground, and then closed the door, leaning on it and closing his eyes. "I… just can't."
"But you love him?"
"I don't know what love is."
"It's when you think so much of
someone that everything he is and everything he can become means the world to
you, and you're just that little bit more insane around the person, and just a
little bit more sane. It's when it
hurts to be away from the person, and it hurts when you know how fragile it is,
how it might not last forever, or if it's even returned at all. It's an ultimate paradox, because it causes
the most pain, and the most bliss."
"Where did you come up with
that?" Sometimes the little girl surprised him. Entreri opened his eyes,
sitting down on the carpet and patting Sam's head.
"Well…" Sam seemed a little sheepish. "Zaknafein just told that to me."
"So he's listening?"
"Even when he says he isn't, whenever I'm around you he always is." Sam picked at a frock, as if not sure if she wanted to say what was next. "Uh. Around Jarlaxle he's never in, though. You won't tell Jarlaxle that, would you?"
"I'm quite sure the mercenary would only find that incredibly funny," Entreri said dryly. "And… I still don't know what love is. Words are just words, and it's really hard to pin it on unfamiliar emotions."
Sam patted his hand a little reassuringly. "I think you love him."
"You know what? So does Jarlaxle, and apparently, the rest of the world. But I really don't know."
"Then what are you always trying to say to him?"
Entreri managed to get the words out this time. "That I need him. I can't imagine living without him, now, and it frightens me every time he stays away, because I can't help thinking it may be for good. I was hoping nothing would… happen, and we'd just continue like we were four days ago, because he was nearly always around. What he said before we left…" Entreri, not really used to speaking on this topic, gave up and sighed. "I don't know how to react to him. Not that he's even giving me a chance to learn."
A long pause, then Sam sighed. "He's not talking. Sorry."
"It's not your fault, princess," Entreri forced a grin. "Do you want your story now? Then later we can go to the kitchen for cakes before you sleep."
**
"How long?" Entreri blinked.
"Er," Iparken, the eccentric gnome mage-captain of this particular Floating Galleon – oddly named There Is No Justice, consulted his illusory map. "Well, you have to understand, old friend. The weather's not very nice this time of year, and unless we want to suffer a lot of damage we have to weave through this front…" he stabbed a tiny finger at a white blip, "And then uh, go around this forming eye," The tiny finger moved to another blip, a larger, rounder one. "And uh, then we'd have to skirt this bank…"
"Just the time again, Captain, please," Jarlaxle said politely.
"Well, I estimate about six days – and that's good time, I assure you – to Amn, then we'd refuel for a day, then hopefully five or six days to your Cloakwood. We'd drop you off there, and then you can meet us up at Baldur's Gate when you're done."
Sam let out a deep sigh, from where she was seated in front of the illusion on the table. "But that's ages! I'd be old by then!"
"Somehow, I rather doubt that, my lady," Jarlaxle grinned. "And you can make use of your time by learning how to play chess."
"Entreri doesn't want to learn and you aren't free all the time," Sam pouted.
"I, er, I can play with you if you wish," Iparken said. Iparken and Sam had gotten along very well, because they were nearly the same size.
"You play chess?" Jarlaxle brightened.
"Oh no…" Entreri muttered. "Iparken, don't answer him."
"Well, er, I always like new opponents," Iparken said with a wide, toothy grin at the assassin, who mourned privately the loss of a good conversationalist. Knowing the obsessiveness of the mage and the obsessiveness of Jarlaxle, it was quite likely he would now no longer have anyone to speak with.
"Can we play now, Captain?" Jarlaxle asked, a little too anxiously for Entreri's comfort. "This trip is beginning to bore me out of my mind."
"That must take some doing," Entreri said dryly. "Sam, are you going to stay?"
"Yep, I think I want to watch," Sam said, helping Iparken get and set up a beautiful glass chess set on the table, arranging Jarlaxle's pieces for him. "You don't mind, right?"
"No… have fun," Entreri grinned. "I'm going to do some work, then I'd come back, okay?"
"Sure," Sam said, watching Iparken's opening moves carefully. "What'd you do that for? Jarlaxle doesn't do that."
"It's the Queen's Gambit," Jarlaxle explained for the gnome mage, "I play a little differently, so I do not use it. That does not mean Iparken is wrong, Sam. Chess has several different ways of moving."
"You read on this?" Iparken asked, rather happily.
"Of course," Jarlaxle nodded. "After all, what use is long life when one does not utilise it to further one's knowledge?"
"Very true," Iparken nodded, comfortably waiting for Jarlaxle's move. Entreri let himself out of the room, closing the door softly.
**
Surprisingly, Kimmuriel was on the deck, leaning against the intricate railing and looking out over the desert. The sky was just beginning to darken, so Entreri guessed the light wasn't as intrusive now as it was a few hours ago. Though it was odd that the psionist had decided to come out of his room – Entreri would have thought that short of burning down his quarters, there would be no way to pry Kimmuriel out of them.
"Greetings, Kimmuriel," Entreri said, deciding to be polite, and taking a spot on the railings that was respectfully out of Kimmuriel's personal space.
Kimmuriel glanced at him out of habit. "Greetings, Entreri," he said neutrally. Immediate points for not saying 'human' instead of his name. Which might actually mean that Kimmuriel was trying to be nice, therefore, trying to gain favours. Entreri found himself growing wary, and watched his words.
"Uh, I think Jarlaxle will be occupied for at least a few hours."
"I know," Kimmuriel said, his voice still flat. "I cannot expect him to be… His time is his own."
Definitely jealous, though trying not to be. "All right," Entreri said, diplomatically.
"Kept in an area so much smaller than your human City or a Dark Elven one, he manages to spend much less time with me than normal," Kimmuriel said, so softly that Entreri nearly did not manage to catch it over the winds.
"Well… Sam does take up a lot of time," Entreri replied, trying to be polite. Besides, a Kimmuriel who wasn't contemptuously staring at him, or just pointedly ignoring him, was a novelty. "And he normally does not have any reason to obsessively play chess, so I guess he will now take the opportunity."
Kimmuriel sighed, and there was something almost heart-breaking in that. "There is that. And I did… insist on coming along."
And suddenly, Entreri grasped the reason why Kimmuriel was actually talking to him. In Calimport, or in the Underdark, at least there were other dark elves to talk to – the other lieutenants, the minions… but here, service was quiet and discreet, and Kimmuriel was not likely to start lively conversations with the non-drow mages. The only other person – Sam, to whom Kimmuriel might talk to, was slightly scared of him, and also avoided him, and Entreri got the idea that he didn't actually like children, anyway. In short, the psionist was acutely lonely, and probably just as acutely homesick, and Jarlaxle was quite likely purposefully avoiding him for fun, just to see what would happen.
It probably galled the psionist greatly that the only person who would, out of politeness if nothing else, talk to him, was someone he really, really didn't like, and whom he doubtless saw as the reason why he was on this lonely journey in the first place. Kimmuriel had a habit of sliding the blame to Entreri, and the assassin didn't really mind, because he didn't really care.
"Well… if you go down to our meals you could see him then," Entreri suggested. Kimmuriel normally declined to eat with them, and stayed in the rooms.
"I do not think I could bear it if he ignored me during them," Kimmuriel replied, squinting at the sky. "It will be dark soon."
"Don't you see him every night?"
Kimmuriel nodded. "I have that, at least. Though of late all we have done is share the bed in sleep." The psionist took a shuddering breath, and then faced Entreri. "Did he… did he say anything about me to you?"
"Only the usual," Entreri belatedly understood the intention behind the question. "He did not express any dissatisfaction on your behaviour, if that's what you mean. Why do you ask?"
"Because since we have boarded this ship, whenever he talks to you…. there are times when he uses his eye patch to block out my 'listening'," Kimmuriel said, looking away, fingers clenching. "And I would like to know why, since he normally never does that. He would not tell me, and I do not know how I have displeased him."
"You didn't," Entreri said, wondering how powerful mages could also be reduced to nervous wrecks just by a simple thing as inattention.
"Then what did he say?"
To tell, or not to tell? Entreri smoothed out his own thoughts, in case Jarlaxle actually did not wish him to say anything about his regrets or general feelings about Kimmuriel. After all, not only was it none of his business, Jarlaxle made it quite clear that he did not want Kimmuriel to learn about it. "I think he will talk to you about it when he is ready."
This seemed to make Kimmuriel even more nervous, unfortunately – Entreri rather tardily regretted his wording. "'When he is ready'? What…" the psionist frowned, arms now tightly folded over the railing. "He is not leaving again, is he?" The panic in his voice, despite the obvious attempts to suppress it, was very evident.
Ah, of all the worst-case scenarios…
"You're really rather paranoid, aren't you?"
"Well?" Kimmuriel snapped, some of his dark elven ideas of racial superiority returning.
"If he was thinking of doing that, he never said anything about that to me," Entreri said dryly. "And I certainly have no intention of ever leaving on another decade-long hiatus with him as my sole companion. It is quite likely that I would lose my sanity."
"Then what? He has another in mind? He does not want me as his lover any longer?"
Worst-case scenarios number two.
"He doesn't sleep around normally?"
Kimmuriel failed to grasp the rather poor joke. "As far as I know," he said stiffly, "Jarlaxle has not engaged in such activity with any other ever since we have been… together."
"It was not that, either," Entreri said carefully.
"It was not some omission on my part, or some sort of action or word?"
"Well…" It had been something like that, but not how Kimmuriel would think… Faced with an outright demand, Entreri could only hesitate. Kimmuriel understood the hesitation immediately – mind mages oddly enough got to understand body language and its equivalent in attitude rather quickly – though from the other end of the spectrum (observing thoughts first, and then absently noting the accompanying body language…).
"What was it? What did I do?" Kimmuriel's voice rose a little. "Why would he not tell me?" The mage was really upset now, and Entreri was beginning to feel nervous himself. Jarlaxle might not be very happy about this…
"Ah, there you are," Jarlaxle's voice sounded somewhere behind them. They both whirled, to see the mercenary leader wander up to them. Studying the dark elf's face, Entreri could not be certain whether or not Jarlaxle had overheard them. From the shock on Kimmuriel's face at his sudden appearance, he wondered why the psionist had not 'felt' his master's presence.
Jarlaxle moved his eye patch, winking at Entreri with the newly uncovered eye. "I was not quite sure whether that gnome friend of yours had mind-reading capabilities," Jarlaxle grinned. "Partway through the game, he seemed to be moving so quickly that I wondered whether he knew what I was trying to do."
"Iparken is just good," Entreri shrugged. Kimmuriel was actually trembling next to him with the effort of suppressing an outburst of some nature. "What did you come up for?"
"Sam wants her notebook," Jarlaxle explained, "And you have the key." He gave no sign of even acknowledging Kimmuriel's presence.
"Her notebook?"
"She seems to think that writing down the moves would help her skill," Jarlaxle said thoughtfully. "Which is not really a good idea, considering it is a poor way of learning as compared to us just teaching her, but we might as well humour her."
"I will go get it, then," Entreri said, relieved that he had an excuse to leave before Kimmuriel started really freaking him out.
**
Jarlaxle watched as Entreri left the deck, and then raised an eyebrow at Kimmuriel, his face unreadable. His lover shrank back against the railing, as if rebuked, biting his lip. Jarlaxle tipped his hat, a little mockingly, in greeting, and then turned on his heel to return to the room.
Kimmuriel ran forward, and wrapped his arms around Jarlaxle tightly from behind, actually stifling a sob. "Master…"
"My, my, Kimmuriel," Jarlaxle said, with terrible gentleness, stroking Kimmuriel's fingers. "Whatever is the matter?"
"I…" Another stifled sob. "I apologise."
"An apology? Whatever for?"
"Whatever it was," Kimmuriel said desperately. "Please do not ignore me."
Jarlaxle neither denied nor affirmed that fact. "You were speaking with Entreri?"
"Yes," Kimmuriel murmured, beginning to calm down just by being this close to his master. This comfort did not last for long, as Jarlaxle pried himself out of the psionist's grip and turned around, keeping his distance.
"Ah, that is good to hear," Jarlaxle nodded, as if praising a pet. "He is not too bad for his kind. Dark elves would have much to learn from their industry."
Kimmuriel shook his head, refusing to let Jarlaxle change the topic. "He would not tell me why you have been ignoring me."
Jarlaxle walked past Kimmuriel, to the railing, and ran a gloved finger over the carvings. "What I choose to do is always my own business. Are you judging me, Kimmuriel?"
"N-no…"
"I do not need to read minds to know when someone is lying," Jarlaxle reminded Kimmuriel mildly.
"I love you!"
"Now you are changing the subject," Jarlaxle said pleasantly, ignoring the emotional weight of those three words. "You should not judge others when you do not follow your own little codes."
"But it is true," Kimmuriel stepped forward and grasped Jarlaxle's arm insistently, making his master turn and look at him. "I love you…"
"As you have told me before, repeatedly," Jarlaxle interrupted, with the same pleasant tone. "I'd have you know I heard you quite clearly the first time."
Kimmuriel stared at him. "You do not… believe me?"
Jarlaxle smiled like a snake. "Would you rather I said 'no', or 'yes'? Which one would hurt more? That I do not think you feel that way, or that I know you feel that way, but I do not care?"
"Which is it?" Kimmuriel asked, obviously dreading the answer.
"Answer my question first."
"You will break me either way," Kimmuriel replied, looking away in pain. "But I will still love you."
Jarlaxle reached out, and gently caressed Kimmuriel's cheek, guiding his face back up to his, looking deeply into the psionist's eyes, the cold serpent smile disappearing… but for a moment, as it returned again, and Jarlaxle shrugged off the psionist's grip and pushed him roughly aside. "I may be late today," he said curtly, and stalked off.
Kimmuriel stared at his master's retreating back, and slumped down onto the deck, suddenly boneless. "I love you," he whispered. "Why…? I love you…"
**
Entreri felt extremely thankful that when he returned, both Kimmuriel and Jarlaxle were nowhere to be seen. He wasn't quite sure what he would have said, but he also wasn't sure who he would have defended. It was none of his business, but at this rate, they would not have a functional, rational mage in Cloakwood. He wondered if Jarlaxle's attitude was also because, unable to get 'away' from Kimmuriel due to the greater amount of work in Calimport, the mercenary leader's 'problems' were all the more apparent, and he was dealing with it by avoiding it, which was causing the current problem…
In the Captain's quarters, Jarlaxle was watching Sam and Iparken play, guiding her moves. He nodded when he saw Entreri enter.
"My book! Thank you!" Sam bounced off the chair and hugged Entreri when he kneeled down to give it to her. The all-important book was actually a tattered, scavenged wizard's book that one of the thieves had 'acquired'. But it was pretty, if one ignored how the gems on the leatherbound cover had been removed, probably with a sharp knife.
Watching chess was excruciatingly boring, but he would rather do that than go out and accidentally run into Kimmuriel again, so he kept his peace and watched, making appropriate noises of encouragement where necessary. Sam lost, even with Jarlaxle's guidance, and wrote down the gnome mage's – and the mercenary's – suggestions neatly in her notebook. Entreri had looked in the notebook once, and it had the weirdest lines, like "When entering a house make sure that you land on a floor".
Still, at least that meant there was no indication that she would be a lawyer.
An hour later, Sam thankfully began yawning, so Entreri took the opportunity to insist that she was tired and drag her out of the room. Jarlaxle waved at him, and Iparken made a more formal goodbye, and they were free.
"Why'd you do that?" Sam yawned. "I wanted to watch."
"It's quite late enough for you, young lady," Entreri said, looking around warily for Kimmuriel. Thankfully, he didn't run into the psionist anywhere, and he reached his room without incident.
"You don't like chess either?" Sam asked, voice a little muffled as she went into the side room to prepare to sleep.
"What do you mean, 'either'?" Entreri swore briefly as a buckle on his armour caught. "Don't you like it?"
"Zaknafein didn't," Sam replied, and then before Entreri could ask, she started brushing her teeth. Patiently, he waited the three dutiful minutes before she spat and rinsed. "He prefers what he calls 'real' fighting. I think he's being unfair."
"Well, Zaknafein does not consider magical fighting 'real' either," Entreri replied carefully.
"Why not?"
"It seems to disagree with his personality somehow. For some reason he thinks they aren't making enough effort."
"That's odd…"
Entreri waited for Sam to get out before going in to use the washroom himself. "No one said old Dark Elves had to be rational."
A long silence.
"Sam?" Entreri stuck his head out of the door. "Is something wrong?"
"I think you just hit on part of his problem," Sam said, slowly, looking mildly surprised.
**
Jarlaxle returned slowly to his rooms, yawning. That gnome friend of Entreri's was much sharper than he would give him credit for, and the mercenary leader could only beat him barely half of the time. Getting defeated only fuelled his desire for another game, and yet another… until before he knew it, it had become extremely late. Still, at least he had found a few more sources of entertainment. He knew that only using Kimmuriel as a primary 'source' was not emotionally healthy for the psionist. Besides, he was quite sure that after tonight's exchange, 'upset' could not even begin to cover Kimmuriel's current mental makeup.
He was right – in his room, Kimmuriel was curled up tightly in the bed, swathed protectively in blankets, his back to him, making a show of not caring when his master entered the room, though a tell-tale flinch at the first sound of the bracelets and anklets when Jarlaxle walked in said otherwise. Jarlaxle shrugged, closing the door and preparing for a night's rest, taking his time, folding his clothes and arranging his armour, then washing up.
It helped him decide what he wanted to do, at least, and he walked over to the bed in silence, getting in and turning his own back on Kimmuriel, closing his eyes. No response from the psionist for a while, and Jarlaxle was considering falling asleep when Kimmuriel asked softly, "Trying to sleep?"
Jarlaxle turned around to see Kimmuriel looking anxiously at him. "I was thinking," he replied shortly.
"Oh." Kimmuriel weighed the consequences of being insolent in Jarlaxle's current projected mood, and decided against it. Tentatively, he crept closer to Jarlaxle until fully in his master's arms, head tucked under Jarlaxle's chin, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. Jarlaxle was vaguely disappointed to realize that Kimmuriel was wearing his pants, but decided he did not really bother, and slowly stroked his lover's hair, concentrating on its aesthetic beauty.
"Is there… anything I can help with?" Kimmuriel asked, when the silence began to stretch.
"No," Jarlaxle replied, with a slight smile. "Forget about it."
"I am… sorry about what happened just now," Kimmuriel said then, nuzzling Jarlaxle hesitantly, as if afraid that he would get pushed away. "I got a little… carried away… I apologise for the scene."
"Hmmm." Jarlaxle made a non-committal sound.
"But I do love you, you know," Kimmuriel said, his voice now wistful. Encouraged by the silence, he added, "I have done so for a long time. Even before you left for the Surface with Entreri. I just could not bear to tell you before that, because I was afraid you would… I did not want to leave you. Then you left, anyway, and when you came back the thought of you leaving again was so much worse I had to tell you. I had to do something. I was so afraid that you would go…"
"Why?" Jarlaxle asked, neutrally. He knew all that already. Kimmuriel had a habit of repeating himself.
"Just the thought of not being able to be near…"
"I meant, why do you love me?"
"Because I can," Kimmuriel replied, in the same, pensive tone.
"That does not sound very constant," Jarlaxle said, with a dry laugh.
"Somehow it is. Even if you push me away, hit me… hurt me… I still love you. Everything you do to me makes me love you more."
Jarlaxle ran his fingers down Kimmuriel's spine, eliciting a gasp. "You do know that I'm only using you."
"Yes." Kimmuriel sighed. "I believe that it is an illusion that you care for me. A very carefully maintained illusion, at that. I think I know what you told that human, just so that by his attitude and his face I could discern it at that moment, and react to it, because I cannot help but react to it – I'm never sure when you mean something, or when you do not. You're only toying with me, I think – for entertainment. I doubt you even feel anything for me other than some kind of possessive affection, if at all."
"And knowing this, you would still cling on to the illusion? Why? I did not see you as lacking in intelligence."
"Because even the damned can dream."
**
"He thinks I won't… I don't… I… well, because he's insane?" Entreri asked in disbelief.
"That seems to be it," Sam said, blinking. "I felt the surge when you said it."
"Okay…" Entreri said, uncertainly, hastily finishing his toiletries. "Anything else?"
"That seems to be mainly it. Oh yes, and he's jealous that you seem to be talking more about Cloakwood than about him, but he's obviously not saying that out loud." Sam grinned, cocking her head as if listening to something. "Ha, ha."
"Well, I would talk more about him if he decided to talk to me," Entreri said dryly. "I hate it when he sulks. And this conversation is damned awkward." He got out and walked over to the bed. "I refuse to encourage him in this. Tell him to talk to me about it to my face. I don't want to talk about it otherwise."
Sam climbed onto the bed. "Is that a good idea?"
"If he thinks he can just retreat without thinking about what I feel whenever he says something that important… If he thinks he can play with me when he feels like it, and retreat when he doesn't… well, he… I would not tolerate that," Entreri finished irritably. "Humouring him just hurts more than it should, and I'm getting very tired of it. Unlike Kimmuriel with Jarlaxle – I will not let Zaknafein, or anyone, bend me to his will. I will never accept any master."
"He's definitely sulking now," Sam said thoughtfully then.
"Whatever," Entreri said, choking down the other, more insistent response, and pulled the blanket to his neck.
Sam sighed. "You are both far too stubborn."
"Tell that more loudly to the one in your head."
Sam let out an exasperated sound, and then there was a short silence.
Abruptly, the pressure point on the bed where she was became a lot heavier.
Entreri turned around and looked into the face of Zaknafein, who seemed so surprised that the expression it was almost comical. The assassin had to suppress a grin. Apparently Sam had a lot more control over the body than Zaknafein would have thought.
"Your armour," Entreri said pointedly, hoping to stave off any outburst with banalities.
Zaknafein looked at him, and then removed it, dumping it on the ground, and then grudgingly climbing in, freezing briefly when Entreri moved to hold him and lead his head against the dark elf's chest, before completing the embrace.
"I am beginning to think you do this just to try and get my attention," Entreri muttered.
Zaknafein snorted.
"If that is the case, I'd like you to know that you always have my attention. Whenever you are actually around, of course. And before you say that is just out of necessity, it's not. I just cannot help but be drawn to you. Happy now?"
"No," Zaknafein replied, shortly.
"I knew I should have brought stuffed toys on this trip."
"Do you care, then?"
"What?"
"About what I said to you, then."
"Obviously I do."
"Then why did you not…"
"React? Well, I can hardly indulge in a melodramatic outburst in front of the wrong person, can I? Sam wouldn't appreciate it, and it'd just make her uncomfortable. And… melodramatic outbursts are not my strong point."
"I know. You are very much like a wolf." A pause. "I like that."
"I will not depend on you, and I hope you will be the same." Entreri said. "I'd stay with you, but I will not tolerate you trying to control me or manipulate my feelings. I will not do that to you."
"All right," Zaknafein said, thoughtfully.
"Will you be satisfied if I just told you I need you and asked you not to try anything so funny as to leave?" Entreri was quite glad that Zaknafein's mood had swung again back to 'reasonable'.
"Hardly, but it would suffice for now." Zaknafein stroked Entreri's cheek with the back of his fingers. "Do you want to play a little?"
"I thought you'd never ask."