"So how do you and Shadi know each other?" Zevran asks me while it's Shadi's turn to use the shower.

"Well, our mothers and Shadi's father were internet friends– best internet friends– long before we were born, so we've always known each other, but we were living overseas at the time. We were both eight when Mom, Shadi's mother, got my Mam a job at the school she taught at, so we moved into the neighbourhood around then. We've basically been in each other's pockets ever since. One big family."

Zevran frowns a little. "Shadi does not live in Camphor Bay?"

I shake my head and open Earth on my phone. "Shadi's still living in the town where we grew up. This little dot here, see? Luz, it's called. Interesting town, famous for its wine, forests, and extensive pockets of grinding poverty."

He raises an eyebrow. "You paint an interesting picture of your hometown."

"Eh. It's a candid one. It's pretty enough to look at, but neither Shadi's nor my family drank alcohol, and the town never really seemed to improve. I don't miss it, really, except for the fact that Shadi and Mom and Baba are so far away now."

With a sigh, I put my phone away and sit sideways on the couch to face Zevran. "This place must be quite a jump from Antiva City, huh?"

Zevran links his fingers together, resting them on his belly. "It is very different, yes. Well, from what I have seen so far, at least. Perhaps when we travel to Luz, my opinion will change." He gives a wry smile, adding, "The poverty-stricken areas may ring a bell."

I give a low chuckle. "I don't know how familiar you'll find them, but we'll see. Maybe it'll still give off the same aura of desperation even amid the modern conveniences."

He shuffles a little, slouching deeper into the sofa. "Ferelden lacked many of the modernities Antiva had. I imagine it is because we are wealthier and so much closer to Tevinter, where many of the most ingenious things seem to be born. But I spent a great many years in and around the Alienage in Antiva City, and then when I travelled to Denerim to meet with Teyrn Loghain, I also caught a good look at the Alienage there." He rubs his chin and shrugs. "It seemed very much the same as the one I knew at home, even at a distance. Deprivation, neglect, indignity, they do not change so very much, however far you travel."

"I must admit, that's what attracted me to this place," I confess. "I wanted a taste of the familiar when I was looking to move, so I chose something that was a hair's breadth away from being totally unliveable. Which, interestingly enough, brings me to a question for you."

He gives a curious hum. "This should be good. Go ahead."

"Since we're on the topic of home and the familiar, I wondered if there's anything that might make you feel a little more at home here."

Zevran grins. "Oh, would you like to keep a corrupt politician in your kitchen, Van? Or are you perhaps thinking of opening a brothel in the laundry room?" He looks quite smug with himself as a laugh involuntarily bursts out of me before he settles down and sighs.

"Ah, perhaps I do feel a little wistful at times," he admits with a tiny nod. "My contract on the Wardens was what took me out of my homeland for the first time, and the idea of never returning does make me think of it often."

"You need not be away from it forever," I remind him, hoping my reluctance doesn't bleed into my voice. "When we reached the end of the game– your game, it said that you had returned to Antiva and taken on the Crows yourself, picked off a number of guildmasters, and the masters who survived made you their leader."

Zevran's eyes widen, and he straightens up on the sofa.

"Truly?" he breathes in quiet astonishment. "That… is remarkable, though I am not sure if it would be a victory or a loss."

"You know, the epilogue said that almost word for word," I say with a nod, "and that you never did work out which it was."

He falls into a pensive silence, chewing his lip and burning a hole into the floor with his eyes. I can't tell if he's weighing up his options or simply picturing himself as the technical leader of Antiva, with more wealth and justified paranoia than one could fit into a lifetime.

"Obviously, you have to do what your heart tells you," I continue carefully, "but I must say that I will miss you if you go."

Zevran's gaze snaps up to me, eyes unremitting in their scrutiny. I shrug under the weight of his stare.

"I mean, I know we haven't known each other that long, but why wouldn't I? You're a good guy, and so far I really enjoy spending time with you. But I understand that this life isn't for everyone." I swallow; this is getting awkward and I need to wrap it up quickly. "There's no cure for homesickness except home, but on the off-chance you could picture yourself happy here, I hope you'll, uh, that you'll let me know if I can help. Maybe it's painting your room another colour, or stocking up on certain kinds of foods. Just… something to think about, anyway."

His mouth pulls into a cheeky smile. "Now, now. Did I say I do not enjoy life here? I am very clever at doing many things at once, such as missing Antiva and having a marvellous time here in Camphor Bay. My host--"

"Housemate," I correct him.

He gives a concessory nod. "Do excuse me. My housemate is most charming and hospitable, and absolutely ravishing to look at, too."

I get a hefty dose of the ol' eyebrow waggle and roll my eyes, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. "Anyway, I've said my piece. Redecorate as you like, tell me what you want so you can settle in and I'll get it. My only request is you let me know before you do anything on the internal structure of the house, as it's quite decrepit and I'd rather it didn't collapse and crush us."

Zevran chuckles at that. "I would rather that as well. Truthfully, what reminds me more of home than anything will be hard to replicate." He pauses for a minute before adding, "Unless you are about to tell me a tannery will be opening close by."

I crinkle my chin thoughtfully. "So far as I know, the main industry here is agriculture. If I get any leatherworking patients, though, I'll be sure to drop a hint for you." I wink and he breathes a laugh through his nose. "Is it just the curing smell? Or can it be any leather?"

"Fresh is best. The smell of rotting flesh is especially strong then." He closes his eyes for a moment, a tiny smile turning up the corners of his mouth as he hums contentedly. "Lovely." He opens his eyes and grins at me, face shining just a little as he speaks again.

"The tiny apartment I was crammed into with the other new recruits, it was thick with the smell, no matter whether the windows were open or closed. The humans I lived with never stopped complaining about it, but for me, it's a delight. Reminds me of all the idle pleasures I got up to there- cards, dancing, debauchery." He flicks his hand with a flourish, then sighs. "Ah, but it is pleasant enough to chat about. Come, let us speak of something else before I bore you to tears with my starry-eyed minutiae, hmm?"

"Hah. I'm not easily bored, and I'm very interested in what you have to say." I pause, realising he's probably homesick and intended it to be a lighthearted segue. Shit. "But anyway, I know you'll tell me if you think of anything else. Redecorating is great fun, especially once you get the place the way you like it." I accidentally think of the first house I bought here, the handsomest big bastard I've ever laid eyes on, fixed up and ready for Mam and Tim and Linney– and Zevran, when he came along. His room would've been the one by mine; the better of the two, right on the western edge where the sea breeze reached first and the afternoon sun heated the tongue and groove right through.

Oh, but he's not hearing about his promised room in the hardwood palace, is he? You obfuscating shit, Van.

Zevran catches the sudden shift in mood and is quick to feed the happy facade by smiling and flicking his brows once. He goes to say something, only to stop when a door upstairs flies open.

"I'm out!" Shadi trills as they match downstairs, donning a set of green flannelette pyjamas with geese on them.

I look up at Shadi. "You've been out for two decades now."

My witty remark wins me a guttural scoff.

"Every time you make a joke, I lose five minutes of my life," they say as they sit on a cushion on the floor in front of me and reach over backwards to deposit a boar-bristle brush into my lap.

"And yet somehow, baby, you keep coming back for more." I take the brush and begin running it through their hair. "No accounting for poor taste, is there?"

Shadi gives a contented rumble, and I catch them cracking an eye open as they mumble to Zevran, "She gives free medical advice and does okay with a brush."

As Zevran grinningly kisses his teeth, I nudge Shadi with my knee. "Hey. Don't fall asleep, now. You owe Zevran a story."

That gets their attention, and they sit up a little straighter. "Got just the thing." They urgently place a hand on the cushion, close to Zevran's knee but not touching him. "You would not believe what the little urchin twins next door are doing to their parents whenever they won't take them to the park. I swear, their pranks are getting crueller and more ingenious every time--"

"You don't know how sorry I am to interrupt this," I say reluctantly (I have followed the news of these little hellions' misdeeds for a year now and am very invested), "but I had a particular story in mind."

Shadi gapes at me, and frankly, I'm as shocked as they are that it's happened. "But this is quality content, Van! Zevran needs to hear it!"

"He absolutely does," I acknowledge with a resolute nod, "but the one I'm thinking of is urgent and may be marginally more useful in the long run."

They raise an eyebrow. "More than tales of Jamie and Olivia's tyrannical rule?"

"Even then. I promised Zevran you'd tell him about how we got into Dragon Age and met him in the first place."

Somehow, Shadi's eyes widen further still, and I get the Dramatic Handwave of Disapproval.

"Why'd you make him wait like that? Poor Zevran, kept on tenterhooks all this time!"

"Let's hope you tell the story so well it was worth the wait," I prod the back of their neck in my wordless request that they sit properly, and they oblige immediately. They give a sweet smile to a bemused, very attentive Zevran.

"Don't you worry about mean old Van, honey," they croon. "Your buddy Shadi's got you covered. Now, let's see, where do I start… ah!

"So the husband of my mother's sister, Uncle Jerry, he's a real piece of work. Kinda guy that makes you think God wasted a perfectly good asshole by giving it a set of teeth." They pause to let Zevran's snort of laughter pass uninterrupted before continuing.

"He works for the AU police, which is the branch that monitors summonings. You probably already know that you're from an AU that's banned here, right?" Shadi casts a beady eye at me, which remains until Zevran confirms that he does.

"Good. Well, ages ago, when those bans were put into place, the AUP was given the power to do raids on people's homes to remove all traces of any AU that featured on the ban list, and they wiped all traces of those off the internet, too. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?"

"Hence why I told you it'd be useless to try and look yourself up on the internet," I interject briefly.

"Hah," Shadi laughs bitterly, "And get the AUP lodged in your ass. Anyway, Jerry works with the seized goods. Him and his buddies are basically getting paid to sit around and play with contraband stuff like computers, books, toys, music, you name it. Whole department's corrupt as shit."

Zevran props his head up with one arm, absolutely enthralled. Bit by bit, he's tilting one ear closer to Shadi, as if afraid he is somehow going to miss some of the words Shadi is broadcasting at their current 70 decibel volume.

"One of the perks of the job that the government never seems to crack down on, is that people working in the Confiscated Goods department are allowed to take stuff home with them. They say it's for research, but often it's so they can keep their contraband racket up and running, sending it out and then seizing it later so they can keep their jobs."

"And of course, a lot of the shit that's banned is really cool," I point out to Zevran. "Especially if Dragon Age was anything to go by."

Shadi nods fervently at that. "Holy shit, you oughta see Uncle Jerry's house. It's a fuckin' treasure trove. Anyway, Jerry's nice enough when he wants to be, but prejudiced, my god! Sorta guy that'll say he loves his granddaughter and make a shitty sexist joke in the same breath. He likes me and my family, we like my queer cousins who gotta live with him, so him and his family showed up for my birthday party. My Aunt Erica gave him the job of getting the present and he forgot to do it, I think, so he ended up giving me one of the contraband laptops. He gave it to me in secret and when anyone asked, he told them it was 'secret men's business.'"

Shadi rolls their eyes and snorts derisively. "I've been openly nonbinary since I was, like, four, and this was my fifteenth birthday? But it's Jerry, so. Anyway, pretty cool gift, all things considered, and when I turned it on after everyone had gone home and looked through the games, I saw this ancient one called Dragon Age: Origins , the one you showed up in. I turn it on and open up the character creator to make the Warden I'm gonna play as, and I see a Warden Amell!" They hold up their hands in a dramatic shrug. "What do I do but get Vannie involved?"

I move the hairbrush just in time for Shadi to lean their head back until it's resting in my lap, and they look up and give me a lazy smile. "And now we're all grown up, breaking the law and bringing cool guys into the house."

We both turn to Zevran and give him the same wicked grin, and he returns it easily.

"My, my. That is quite a tale," he remarks, his voice substantially softer than his expression. "And so you simply… played the game together, and I was summoned thus?"

I shake my head. "Nah. Well, we did play the game together. Usually sitting like this, me brushing Shadi's hair and watching over their shoulder while they played. I was never really one for computer games, but it was interesting to see what wickedness Shadi was doing in my name." I shrug. "As for the summoning, no, that's usually something done in private. On their 14th birthday, every kid gets a summon device and a chip put into one of their adult teeth, connects them to the portal network, and you have to go through a bunch of questions to narrow down who you're looking for. Anyway, once your Summoned gets here, it sorta works like when you get a new baby. You've got a certain amount of time to go to the AUP and register them once they've arrived, and if you don't, then it's trouble." I rub my chin for a moment. "If I recall correctly, it's five months here."

Zevran frowns. "They do not simply keep track of who summons whom with their computers and such? Surely they have the technology for it."

Shadi and I shake our heads. "They do have the tech for it, but they don't keep track themselves, no, because your device is connected directly to your portal, and that's it," Shadi explains. "The AUP did try to get access rights for that, but people don't like it when the government tries to invade their privacy. They went apeshit. Took to the streets, mass strikes for months… they even tried to burn the AUP headquarters to the ground, so it never passed. That's why they have the registration rule instead."

A moment passes where nobody says anything. Zevran rubs a finger over the bridge of his long nose, looking completely immersed in his own thoughts until he speaks up again.

"So we have four months and some in which to register me, is that correct?" he asks.

"Mmm," I say heavily, "but that's going to be complicated since you're not supposed to have been summoned at all."

Zevran gives a dry laugh. "Yes, I gathered that it may be something of a fly in the brandy. But what can we do, then?"

"That's a great question," Shadi mumbles, straightening up again so I can put their hair into a fishtail plait.

"I suppose this is the bit where we're either struck with a brilliant idea, or we just keep knocking our heads together until the former happens." I shrug. "The obvious solution would be falsifying your identity, but I have no idea what checks and balances the AUP have in place to make sure people don't try that sort of monkey business."

With the plait ready to be tied up, I hold the end with one hand and use the other to wave to Shadi. They wordlessly put a scrunchie in my hand and as I get to work, I continue. "This is where you come in, Shadi baby, and knock our socks off with some brilliant insider information. Go ahead, centre stage is all yours."

Shadi turns around, running a hand over their braid before hooking their chin over my knee to look up at an intrigued Zevran. Their head jiggles back and forth as they begin to speak.

"I do know more than the average person, it's true," they admit. "We'd keep Jerry talking about work whenever he was visiting so he wouldn't constantly shit all over the queers at the table. Let's see… when you register a Summoned, you give the AUP their name and the AUP checks it against a list of who you can and can't summon."

"And there is no chance some other person out there has my name?" Zevran asks, looking rather concerned now.

Shadi and I both shake our heads.

"Never heard of another Zevran, or an Arainai," I say.

Shadi shakes their head. "I'm pretty sure once they know your name, they'll know something's off right away. I… guess the other option is to pretend you weren't summoned, and make it a regular registration of an adult giving a different name."

"That could work," I muse. "If we can get to a place where record keeping is a little haphazard due to isolation, you could just present yourself to the authorities." I snap my fingers excitedly. "My god, it's ingenious!"

"How likely is this to end in failure, though?" Zevran broaches. "The penalty, after all, seems to be quite steep, and your technology is very smart. Suppose I am caught later on?"

Shadi shakes their head. "Won't be an issue if we do it right."

"After all the chaos I was telling you about, when the AU portals started?" I begin, and Zevran nods. "Yeah, the world's population dropped dramatically, and in a very short period of time, too. After that, people started living in clusters, which our heavily centralised governments weren't equipped to handle, so we got a lot of people living off the books."

Zevran, however, looks unsatisfied with the answer. He waves his hand impatiently. "But the failure rate! What do we do? How do we do this correctly?"

I quickly put a hand on Zevran's shoulder. "Sorry, Zev, I got too excited and didn't answer your question properly. To keep the failure rate close to zero, what we need is a convincing and extensive background story for you."

"Yeah," Shadi chimes in. "The authorities aren't likely to do a background check on you in areas where the record-keeping is bad, because otherwise they'd only get through one out of ten cases." A shadow of concern passes over their face. "The only thing is…"

"Mmm?" Zevran's watching them intently now.

"The tattoo," they tap their cheek. "I've never seen that on anyone else, and it could make you very distinguishable."

I shrug. "There's cover-up makeup for that sort of thing, isn't there?" Shadi is an authority on makeup; I'm surprised they forgot to bring it up.

They shake their head at me, apparently not pleased that I had raised the issue. "Wouldn't work on his skin texture," they say simply.

Zevran frowns. "My skin texture? I do not see the problem. I have painted my face many a time for my missions for the Crows, and I evidently finished the tasks." He looks baffled, even verging on offence.

When I look closely at Zevran's face, though, I see precisely what Shadi means. The deep lines in his forehead and around his eyes will reveal the presence of makeup early into the picture when he makes an expression, and his cheeks have small pits on both sides that smooth makeup would betray. There's no way he'll be able to present himself without them requesting he strip the makeup for his picture to go on his ID.

I take a moment to rub my eyes so that I don't look like I'm staring at the poor bastard, but I need to do something. With all the legends (and walking proof, when permitted ones are summoned) of elves with their eternal life and flawless everything, it's almost jarring to see such a young individual with the kinds of creases you would see on a forty-year-old smoker, with parts of his cheeks softly pockmarked. If it weren't for his bearing, I'd say he didn't seem his age at all. Oh god, death.

"You have to have your picture made for your identity file," I explain, hoping the awkwardness of backtracking on my own suggestion doesn't kill me in the interim. "And you're not allowed to wear makeup for it. They'll know you're wearing makeup because your skin has expression lines that will quickly betray you."

Zevran's face falls an infinitesimal way before it hardens, and my heart sinks. No, no, please don't feel bad. It wasn't an insult.

"It's only for practical reasons," I say quickly, hoping somehow to save both my arse and his ego. "I'm sure you look very nice with makeup on, but for secrecy's sake, we need to choose the easiest path."

It helps, I think. Especially when Shadi grins and nods in agreement. "We should do a makeup day!" They hold their arm near Zevran's. "We're almost the same skin tone, so a lot of my stuff should work for you."

My eyes go from Shadi to Zevran, and Zevran looks surprised, tentatively pleased. His smile comes to him easier now, and he nods. "That could be very interesting." Zevran's eyes go to me. "And our ravishing doctor will join, too, of course?"

I chuckle mirthlessly. "Only if you want to see my skin peel off my face for a whole week after."

Zevran squints.

"Skin allergies," I explain with a shrug. "But I can supply background music and hold up mirrors as needed."

This appears a suitable compromise, but we're off-topic quite substantially now.

"For your facial tattoo, we may need to consider something a little more invasive," I continue. "These days, people can permanently remove tattoos with an ointment. Since it's all one colour, the tattoo's aged quite a bit, fairly small lines… we could have these completely gone with a few weeks to spare before your registration is due."

The idea of Zevran without those tattoos on his face is… strange, to say the least.

Zevran slowly traces a finger over the lines that must be so familiar to him now. "I… suppose it makes little sense to keep it, if I am no longer a Crow," he murmurs. "It will be strange to be without it, after all this time. But if you think it will help, then perhaps we should do it."

"There's no reason you can't get another tattoo later on," Shadi soothes. "Something new, maybe."

He nods and shrugs noncommittally. "No, indeed. There are all the options in the world with a blank canvas." The optimistic words clash with the hollowness of his voice.

"You don't have to get this done if you don't want to, Zev," I remind him. "Maybe there's some other alternative we haven't thought of yet, and it'll come to us in a stroke of genius overnight."

Zevran's smile is regular at the mouth, but wan in the eyes. "Perhaps. But a fresh start with a new face could be interesting. I will take some time to think on it tonight, and then we can take action tomorrow, yes?"

Shadi and I both nod, and the matter is settled.

"We need to work out a good backstory for you, too," Shadi gets to their feet and begins walking a small, circular track in the floor. "It shouldn't be too complicated. The world has a pretty big elven diaspora, and those generations of summoned people have gone on to have children who look like you. There must be a ton of kids running around unregistered, but we'll need to be able to give a detailed description of where you grew up and the people around you."

"Hm," I grunt, frowning into my hand. "Do they interview people you say you know, to verify your identity? How do they work with things like that?"

Shadi shakes their head. "No idea."

At that answer-- or rather, the lack thereof-- Zevran's body stiffens, and hard amber eyes dart between Shadi and me.

"We'll find out," I assure him gently, my eyebrows hitching as an idea comes to me. "In fact, now that I think about it, the answers may be a little closer to hand than my first guess."

Zevran's ears prick up (figuratively). "Hmm?"

"Doctors have to undertake continued education on the job to keep their skills current, and we have a lot of areas we have to be at least a little good in. Navigating social services is a part of that, these days. A quick visit to the social services office here to get some materials, and we should be in business."

I rub my hands together like a fly, quite pleased with myself, and that's boosted only further by an encouraging 'Mmm!' from Shadi.

"Looks like we'll have a lot of reading to do this weekend," Shadi muses. "Maybe we could stop by on the way home tomorrow."

The three of us exchange smiles and nods. Now we're cooking.

"What time shall we leave for your home tomorrow, Shadi?" Zevran enquires politely.

"Mmm, the party they're going to starts at 10. I guess they'll be out of the house by 7 or 8, so we can leave pretty early."

"Let's be out of here by 8, then," I suggest, and it's met with unanimous agreement.

Shadi pulls their phone out of their pyjama pocket. "Gawd, it's midnight already!" A loud yawn tumbles out of them- unsurprisingly; Shadi is an early bird, and I'm not sure if the yawn had been lurking there for a while, or the realisation of the time suddenly made their body decide it was ready for bed. Whichever it is, the silent declaration of bedtime has been made, and we all get to our feet.

"Shadi, you're in my bed while you're here," I say as we all traipse upstairs together.

"I could take the couch," they offer quickly, and I squint at them.

"You, on that thing?" I laugh. "It'd be like trying to squeeze a giraffe into a shoebox. You get the bed. You won't get my lice or flesh-eating termites or anything, I put on fresh sheets this morning. I'm coming in there for my pyjamas, and then I'll leave you be." I turn to Zevran, who is standing in the hall, leaning against the doorframe to his room. "Night, Zev. Sleep well. I'll knock on your door when it's time to get up, if you're not already awake."

He smiles and nods, giving me a wave as Shadi and I step into my room.

"I'm quite pleased with my idea," I say to them while rummaging in my drawers for a set of pyjamas. "Stroke of genius, it was."

Shadi chuckles. "Yeah, okay, I'll give you that. And takes time off your CPD! Masha'allah, you'd give a computer a run for its money."

I snort at their lavish concessory praise, pulling out an ancient pair of blue and white chequered pyjama pants and a white singlet. "All right, that's me sorted for this evening. See you in the morning, huh?"

I pull Shadi into a bear hug, which is rewarded with a chuckle and arms wrapped around me just as tightly.

"It's good he's here, Vannie," they say as they pat my back. "He's really sweet."

I nod, letting them go. "He is, isn't he? I think this is going to be fun."

"Yeah. Go on, then, go to your sofa. I can't start the orgy 'til you've left, otherwise it'll be awkward."

"Ah, yes, of course," I give an understanding nod. "All those sexy rounds of dominos. I'll leave you to your debauchery, then." With a wave, I'm out of there before I can witness anything unseemly.

Ten minutes later, my teeth are brushed, I'm wearing my PJs, and I'm making my way downstairs only to find Zevran sitting on the sofa in his sleeping pants with a cover draped over his shoulders like he's auditioning for the part of a blanket fort.

I frown. "Zev? Everything all right?"

He smiles at me. "Oh, yes, thank you Van. Things are quite fine. But what is this about you sleeping down here?"

"Well, Shadi's too big to fit the couch here, and I've had to share a bed with them before. That was a bloody disaster." I chuckle ruefully. "They stole all my blankets and kicked me in the arse about five times before I could wake them up. It's like sleeping beside a demonic horse."

Zevran's eyes playfully widen. "Such violence! My, my. The gentle giant act is nothing more than a facade, then?"

I shake my head, feeling like a person who's seen quite some shit. "My arse certainly seems to think so. I never did sit properly again after that."

He snorts softly. "But you cannot sleep here, Van, surely."

"... I presume I can. I'm physically able to fall asleep here, as you know yourself, and I'm well within my rights to, so… yes?"

Zevran tsks at me and gestures upstairs. "Take the spare room, Van. It is the logical thing to do."

I shake my head again, much harder this time. "It's not the logical thing to do at all," I say firmly. "The spare room became your room the moment you arrived."

"So I am to sleep on a bed while you sleep on this sofa?" he returns, apparently equally unhappy with my reply.

I shrug and nod. "Well, yeah. I gave Shadi my room of my own free will, quite literally to save the modest remains of my arse, and chose to sleep on the sofa, which I'm perfectly entitled to do."

"I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do, forgive me." He holds up his hands apologetically. "But perhaps we could share my bed? I assure you, I am a gentleman and would not dream of making you uncomfortable. You have my word." The smile he's trying to give me is barely visible under the seriousness in the rest of his face.

It's hard not to be touched by the generosity of this guy. He has one bedroom designated as his own private space, no doubt the only one he has ever had, and his first thought is to share it with me when I give my own to Shadi.

I decline his offer with a shake of my head. "You're a kind man, Zev, and I know I'm safe with you, otherwise I'd never have fallen asleep here on the sofa with you. But no, thank you. I'm very comfortable here, and your space should be your own."

He tuts and rises to his feet in one sharp, fluid motion. "Agh. I do not understand you, Van. You could be sleeping somewhere far better, and yet you will not accept it! You like to make things difficult for yourself."

The temptation to give him a shit-eating grin is too much, and so I do it.

"Yep! I'm allergic to an easy life, so I sabotage myself at every turn to stay in my comfort zone. Aren't I awful?" I flop onto my back on the couch now that it's free, sprawled over the entire length of it. "Besides, you snore."

Zevran freezes. "I do not!"

I laugh richly. "Oh, yes you do. I woke up when we both fell asleep here one night and you sounded like this," I tip my head back and mimic his gentle, snuffling snore; his eyes widen.

"... Truly? I snored?"

I nod, and this suave, savvy fellow stands there looking thrown for a loop.

"Zev?"

That jerks him out of his little reverie. He snaps-to and looks at me expectantly.

"It was probably because your nose was blocked, but either way, go to bed," I point upstairs. "I'm going to sleep now, and unless you want to stand here and watch, things are about to get dull."

The explanation appears to strike a note of confidence in him again. He straightens up and shaking his head at me, waves and leaves for his room.

I smile and cocoon myself in the quilt I pull off the back of the sofa, watching after Zevran as he traipses upstairs. I can't help but like him, this person I barely know but conversely know better than most people do, and an unreasonably large part of me hopes far too hard that he'll want to stick around.

I sigh heavily. Of course, that's his choice, and I'll respect whatever he chooses. But if hope were illegal, we'd all be imprisoned.

Turning over and nestling down into the blanket, I nod off easily.