Note: This scene somewhat got out of hand and became far too long. Hence, I split it into three parts, meaning that chapters 4-6 all take place during the same night. I will upload them all at once. Reviews are appreciated!
Chapter 4 - Inappropriate Assessments (The Tavern Night Part 1)
Hours turned into a day, and Dorian found himself thinking of their impending rendezvous. Or was it that, at all? Was it really a date, or was he reading too much into it? Dorian was no stranger to the dance of flirtation, but there was something about his relationship with the Inquisitor that felt different—more intense, more uncertain. The evening of their tavern appointment came, and Dorian found himself more nervous than he cared to admit. He changed his outfit multiple times, each more extravagant than the last. He finally settled on a dark, tailored ensemble with just the right amount of flair. Not too ostentatious, but just enough to make a statement.
As the evening sun cast its golden hues across Skyhold, Dorian approached the tavern. He felt a flutter of excitement mixed with a dash of trepidation.
Why am I so anxious? It's just a man…
But deep down, he knew it was more than that. This wasn't just a casual meeting; it was an exploration of the dynamic between them—a dynamic that was proving to be more complex and intriguing than he'd ever anticipated.
Walking into the tavern, he hoped for a simple, enjoyable evening. But with the Inquisitor, nothing was ever truly simple. And Dorian, despite all his reservations, found himself looking forward to every unpredictable moment. To his utter delight, he found the Inquisitor already in the nook on the second floor, sitting on a bench by the table, flipping a coin between his fingers lazily. The dexterity of that man always astounded Dorian, just like the fact that Liam - unlike the mage himself - apparently had taken no time at all to dress up for the occasion, sitting there in his usual Inquisitor's garbs, and he still managed to look terribly handsome.
How?
When the Inquisitor noticed Dorian approaching, he smiled like a conspirator and said, his eyes aglow with mischief, "Didn't expect to see me? I was told not to be late. Perhaps even threats were made? Something about being turned into a frog otherwise,".
Gracefully, Dorian strode to the nook, his every movement elegant and purposeful, a stark contrast to the casual attire of the Inquisitor. Raising an eyebrow, he feigned a look of surprise, saying, "Ah, so the Inquisitor does have ears everywhere. Impressive. Though, the frog spell is rather elementary; I had something far more... exotic in mind for latecomers."
Pausing to admire the coin dance between Liam's fingers, Dorian took a seat opposite him, his dark eyes never leaving the Inquisitor's.
"Now, tell me, did you spend all your time practicing that little trick to impress me, or was that an inherent talent you always had hidden up your sleeve?" he quipped, leaning back and stretching an arm casually over the backrest.
The Inquisitor moved his fingers quickly, making the coin disappear from sight. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?" He asked, winking.
Allowing himself a brief moment to take in Liam's carefree smile and rugged handsomeness, Dorian smirked.
"It's rather unfair, you know. Here I am, having spent hours deliberating over my wardrobe, trying to pick the perfect ensemble to leave a lasting impression," he motioned at his own impeccable outfit with a flourish, "and you stroll in with that effortless charm of yours, looking as dashing as ever in your usual attire. How do you do it, Inquisitor?" Dorian's tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity behind his words.
"Trying to steal my secrets?" Liam chuckled, and then leant over the table a little. "Seems only fair, I guess, given how much advice I've gotten from you. So, the secret to my 'effortless charm'... is actually the same as the reason for me facing a seven-foot-tall Qunari in the sparring yard. You really sure you want to know, Pavus?"
Maker, that teasing smirk, and that wonderful smell of leather and the cologne Liam bought in Val Royeaux…
Dorian leaned forward, mirroring Liam's position, a playfully challenging glint in his eyes. "You dangle such tantalizing mysteries before me, Inquisitor, and then ask if I wish to know? It's almost cruel," he purred, his voice dripping with mock indignation. Then, leaning back again, Dorian tapped a finger to his chin thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Though, I must admit, watching you face off against The Iron Bull was... enlightening, to say the least. It's not every day you get to see such raw power and, dare I say, graceful agility on display." He allowed his gaze to drift down Liam's form for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "But you've piqued my curiosity, as you always do. So, do share, what's the connection between your 'effortless charm' and a tussle with a Qunari?"
The Inquisitor smirked and also leaned back. "Well, it might be different for others, but for me the secret to charm and fighting is the same. You might want to take notes," he said, alluding to Dorian's ongoing jests about taking notes for 'pure scientific interest'. "So... one: Always anticipate what the other expects. Give them enough of that to lure them in, but always make sure to mess with their expectations a little. Keeps them on the edge."
Dorian arched an eyebrow, his playful demeanour now laced with a hint of intrigue. "Well, aren't you the master strategist?" He said, picking up his drink and taking a sip, his eyes never leaving Liam's. "You do realize, of course, that this tactic of yours makes you an absolute menace, both in combat and in... social situations."
"Guilty as charged," Liam agreed, winking.
"No, I mean it. But with regard to giving just enough of what's expected and then messing with expectations, I must commend you. Truly, Inquisitor, you've turned it into an art form. Because I must admit, every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me yet again."
"You still don't know part two," Liam chided him. Mischief danced along his lips. "The other part of being effortlessly charming and invincible in battle is more difficult. I'm not sure if you're up for that, Pavus." His gaze darkened in a way that seemed both dangerous and painfully attractive. "The real secret is something I don't think you can do... because you must not care about losing. About pain. About the other being offended and walking away. About miscalculating, being struck down, and bleeding out on the floor."
A strange pause followed that comment.
Dorian leaned back slightly, observing Liam with a mix of amusement and contemplation. "Not care about losing? My dear Inquisitor, I've faced my share of battles, both on the battlefield and in the heart of Tevinter politics. Each with its own stakes, each with its own pain. But to not care about pain or loss entirely? That's a dangerous game, my dear. One where you might win the battle but risk losing yourself."
Seeing the Inquisitor merely shrug at that, Dorian's voice took on a softer, more sincere tone, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through his usual veneer of wit and sarcasm.
"I've seen too many brilliant minds consumed by their own indifference. Believe me, the thrill of being detached can become addicting. But at what cost?" Meeting Liam's intense blue gaze, Dorian added, "However, there is a difference between being cautious and being paralyzed by fear. And while I may not flaunt my disregard for the consequences, that doesn't mean I'm not willing to take risks. Especially when the stakes... or the company," he emphasized with a meaningful look, "are worth it."
Seemingly unimpressed by all of Dorian's charming words, Liam leant back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You wanted to know my secret, you got it," he said matter-of-factly. "Now, I was under the impression we were here to get drunk and – quite inappropriately, of course – assess the allure of our esteemed Inquisition companions. Is that plan still up, or am I in for more reprimands?" His tone was challenging.
"Reprimands? Oh, please, Inquisitor, when have I ever been the type to play the role of a scolding mother? Though if you're into that sort of thing, I'm sure we can find someone in Skyhold to fill the position. The Seeker might be more than willing." His eyebrow quirked up suggestively. "Now, to the inappropriate assessments you mentioned, then. I must admit, I'm quite curious as to your thoughts. After all, it's not every day one gets to hear the Inquisitor's private opinions on... allure." He paused, taking in the Inquisitor's unreadable expression at the carefully pronounced word. "Let's make this interesting, shall we? For every candid assessment you share, I'll share one of my own. Unless you're afraid of a little tit-for-tat? And just to clarify, Inquisitor, this is all in good fun and purely for... scientific interest. Nothing that leaves this nook will be used as fodder for Skyhold's gossip mill."
"I know," Liam assured him, finally moving to fill the empty cups on the table with the jug that had been waiting. To his surprise, Dorian found it was not the bitter Fereldan ale, but some decently smelling wine. Wait, had the Inquisitor not said they had no wine here? "But I had a different way of approaching this in mind. One that might be even more interesting."
The Inquisitor handed Dorian a cup, smirking in a dangerously beautiful way. Dorian accepted it, allowing the wine's aroma to waft upwards and fill his senses. He took a careful sip, savouring the smooth taste before letting out an appreciative hum.
"You pick the companion, tell me your thoughts on their allure... and then tell me whether you believe I would have them, or not," Liam suggested. His tone was so challenging, it sent shivers down Dorian's spine. "Deal?"
Setting the cup down, Dorian leaned back against his seat, tapping a finger against his lips in thought. "Well, well, Inquisitor. I must admit, I'm a little taken aback," he began with a smirk, "but also incredibly intrigued. Your proposal certainly has... merit." He raised an eyebrow, his gaze locking onto Liam's. "A delightful mixture of scandal and personality assessment, if I dare say so myself."
Taking a deep breath, Dorian continued, "Alright, let's begin with the easiest choice, shall we? Varric. He's charming, a master storyteller, and this chest hair... unmistakably iconic. I, for one, can appreciate the allure of a man who knows his way with words. But as for whether or not you'd 'have him'? Hmm..." Dorian took another sip of his wine, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think... not. You'd admire him, maybe even tease him, but at the end of the day, you two share a camaraderie that would, in my estimation, supersede any carnal inclinations. How did I do?"
"Very good," Liam replied, smirking in an approving fashion. "Quite on point. Although I am not sure I would ever use the words 'carnal inclinations'..." He chuckled softly, taking a sip of the wine. "That, and I would not want my love life to be used as a blueprint for cheesy stories that Seeker Pentaghast ends up reading when she thinks no one sees."
Dorian chuckled, swirling the wine in his cup. "Ah, so you wouldn't want to be the star of one of Varric's romance serials, then? Can't say I blame you. Having the entirety of Thedas privy to your intimate exploits... how mortifying!" He cast Liam a sly look. "Though, if you ever do find yourself in such a narrative, I'm certain it would be a bestseller."
Taking another sip of his wine, he continued, "Alright, let's keep this game interesting. How about... Blackwall? Now there's a man of mystery with a dark and brooding allure. The rugged beard, the voice that could melt even the frostiest of hearts, and that sense of duty... Very admirable. As for whether you'd be interested? I'd wager you're intrigued, but perhaps put off by the weight of his Warden duties. Still, there's something about a man with a few scars, don't you think?" He took another sip, letting the wine glide down his throat as he looked at Liam expectantly. "Your thoughts, Inquisitor?"
Liam laughed. "Not really," he said wincing. "Good man, Blackwall. Definitely. Would trust him with my life. But... in bed? No. Definitely no. The beard... no. And 'dark and brooding' isn't really my thing." He made a wavy hand gesture to indicate his disinterest. "But if you're interested, feel free to see what he'd be willing to say to you in that 'voice that could melt even the frostiest of hearts'," the Inquisitor teased.
"Ah, Inquisitor, I fear you've misinterpreted me. Just because I can appreciate the qualities in a man doesn't mean I want to bed him. Besides, Blackwall's beard might just hide a little too much of him for my liking. I've always preferred a face I can see clearly." Dorian gave a playful wink.
"That makes two of us," Liam agreed, pouring himself another cup of wine.
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Dorian admitted, "You've intrigued me, Trevelyan. Your preferences, your... aversions." He glanced at Liam with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile. "It's all very fascinating. So, let's up the stakes a little. I'll name another person, but this time, I won't tell you what I think of their allure first. Instead, I'll tell you after you've revealed your thoughts. Does that sound fair?" Without waiting for a confirmation, Dorian said, "How about... Leliana? The Nightingale herself. The mysterious and deadly spymaster, yet with a songbird's voice and a heart committed to her beliefs." He leaned in, voice dropping to a soft murmur, "So, Inquisitor, what are your thoughts on our beloved Sister Nightingale?"
"Not in a thousand years," Liam exclaimed, his tone exaggerating. He laughed and refilled Dorian's cup. "No offense, she's marvellous at what she's doing, but..." He leant forward on the table in a conspiratorial way, "I am scared to shits of her. And if I bed someone, I'd like to know that I will wake up the next day. Without a dagger... anywhere. You know, just alive."
Dorian burst into laughter, raising his cup in a salute. "Oh, my dear Inquisitor, I never expected such candour. But I do see your point." He leaned back, swirling the wine in his cup, and his gaze turned momentarily distant, clearly relishing the thought. "Though I must say, there's a certain allure to danger, isn't there? Dancing on the edge of a blade... quite literally, in Leliana's case. But for the record, while I find her dedication and intelligence absolutely captivating, I too would rather not find a raven feather on my pillow with a note detailing every indiscretion I've ever committed. One must keep some mysteries intact, after all."
"From the Nightingale? I'm afraid that might be impossible," Liam countered, shrugging in a feigned gesture of helplessness.
Dorian took a sip, his gaze never leaving Liam's. "So, my friend, you've deflected and avoided thus far. Three options, no 'yes'. But who in the Inquisition truly captivates the great Inquisitor's heart? Or must I guess?"
"I haven't deflected anything, Pavus. I'm as honest as can be," Liam protested, leaning back in his chair. "You are changing the rules of the game. Name a companion, tell me your thoughts on them, and guess my thoughts. That was the deal. Are you incapable of upholding that?"
Dorian responded with a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest in mock horror. "Oh, heavens! I have been accused of dishonouring our sacred pact." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, feigning deep contemplation. "Alright then, if it's rules and structure you want, let me not disappoint." He swirled the wine in his cup, eyes playfully scanning the room as if looking for inspiration. "Ah, how about Sera? With her irreverent wit, penchant for pranks, and absolute disregard for nobility... Well, she's undeniably a character. And those quick fingers, always darting about," Dorian said with a sly wink. "I find her amusing, even if her humour is a tad juvenile at times. But the real question, dear Inquisitor, is: What about you? Would the rebellious little archer capture your affections? If I had to wager, I'd say… no."
Liam rolled his eyes. "Certainly not! Half of the time, I don't even get what she is talking about. I don't know which... plane of existence Sera is from, but it's definitely not the same as mine." He laughed. "Don't tell her I said that, please. She'd be furious, and I don't want to find out how nug dung feels in my boots. But still, no. And besides, from what I gather, Sera is very much interested in ladies only. Futile endeavours are not my thing."
That answer was quite understandable, and in truth, a relief. Dorian smirked, tapping his finger against the table. "Ah, so Sera's particular brand of madcap humour isn't your cup of tea. Good to know." He winked. "But I do believe you may be onto something about her preference for the fairer sex. She and I share a certain discerning taste in that regard."
He took a moment to savour his wine, letting the taste settle on his palate. "Very well, allow me to think of someone else. Hmm... Oh, yes! The stoic, the warrior, the legend herself — Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. Surely her unwavering dedication to duty, her commanding presence, that lovely scar on her cheek... They must hold some allure, no?"
The Inquisitor only shrugged briefly. "I... may have tried to flirt with her. Emphasis on past tense." He looked into his wine cup, seemingly ponderous. "Ultimately, I think I did it only to make her blush, and I'm not a cruel man, so I stopped. Whatever she wants from life, it's certainly not me. And that's fine with me."
It was reassuring to hear him say that, but also somehow disheartening - so far, Liam had confessed to interest in Cassandra and Josephine only… Dorian felt a slight pang of something he didn't want to readily identify. Was it disappointment? Jealousy? Curiosity? Maybe all of the above. Still, ever the master of masking his true feelings, Dorian let out a chuckle.
"Ah, our dear Seeker. So principled, so stern. A challenge indeed. Though, from what I've seen, she does have a softer side, hidden deep beneath all that armour." He took a slow, deliberate sip of his wine, letting the pause linger, his eyes never leaving Liam's. "Well, this game has been...illuminating," Dorian said, his tone lilting playfully. "But, if we're truly being honest and divulging secrets, allow me a more direct inquiry. Out of all the people in Skyhold, Inquisitor, who does catch your eye, even if just for a fleeting moment? Someone who hasn't been named, perhaps?" He raised an eyebrow inquisitively, making it clear he wasn't just asking about casual interest.
"Some people would catch my eye, but there's always a 'but', I guess," Liam said evasively. "You know I like Lady Montilyet, and if Sister Nightingale hadn't told me she was more romantically inclined, I would have pursued the matter. But it's unfair if one party only wants fun, and the other wants more, don't you think?" He sighed and downed his cup in one go.
Dorian leaned forward, letting the candlelight flicker and catch his gaze. He was genuine in his curiosity, and it was evident in the way he studied Liam. "You are quite the enigma, Inquisitor. You speak of these elusive people, yet you don't name them. It's maddening, you know. Like trying to solve a puzzle that's missing several pieces." He took a deep sip from his cup, savouring the wine and the moment. "Let's make this easier, shall we? Give me a hint. Apart from Lady Montilyet, who else in Skyhold makes Liam Trevelyan, the mighty Inquisitor, go weak at the knees? Someone closer, perhaps? Someone you've shared more than just tactical discussions with?" The mage's voice dripped with playfulness, but his eyes sought something genuine.
"Ask what you want to ask," Liam said, his tone almost demanding, daring Dorian to make an assumption as to who else might be on the Inquisitor's short list of possible bedfellows. His blue eyes almost bore into Dorian as he waited for a reply.
Dorian shifted slightly in his seat, a hint of unease creeping into his otherwise impeccable posture. The weight of Liam's stare was palpable. It wasn't often that he found himself off-balance in a conversation, especially when it involved matters of the heart or bedchamber. Yet, here he was, thrown slightly off-kilter by the man in front of him.
"You do have a way of making things more intense than they need to be, don't you?" Dorian commented, attempting to lighten the mood and buy himself a moment of time. He took a deep breath, pushing past his hesitation. "Alright, then, if we are being candid. Could it be... Bull? There's a tension between the two of you that's hard to ignore. Or perhaps... Solas? He's enigmatic in his own right. And then there's—" Dorian paused, swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat. "And then there's... me. Are any of these assumptions close to the mark? Or am I merely chasing phantoms?" There was a sudden vulnerability in his tone, hidden beneath the veneer of playful banter.
"Bull has... offered. Quite enthusiastically," Liam confessed, making Dorian's heart and mind race. "And while I'm not usually the type to go for horns or the like, his... expertise and promises do sound interesting. That, and the voice is to die for. Don't you think?"
Dorian blinked a few times, his mind whirling with the imagery of Liam and Bull. The sheer difference in their sizes and the juxtaposition of their personalities presented a tableau both intriguing and, he had to admit, mildly provocative. But it wasn't that revelation that truly had him reeling; it was the pointed omission of any response to his mention of Solas and, more importantly, himself.
"Well, The Iron Bull certainly has a... unique charm," Dorian began, swirling the wine in his cup, gathering his thoughts. "And that voice could certainly give anyone pause, I'll grant you that. I can't say I've been subjected to his... offers, but I've certainly had to parry some playful, or perhaps not-so-playful, insinuations." Dorian raised an eyebrow with a smirk, trying to regain some semblance of the upper hand. "But you've dodged my other points. Solas? Or, perhaps more pertinently, what of me, my friend? Have I not even made the list of your potential dalliances? A man can't help but wonder."
"I'm not into elves at all, sorry. And I'm not even sure Solas likes me," Liam replied, still avoiding the topic of Dorian. He refilled his cup with the wine jug, noticing it was now empty. He sighed and put it down, and then looked at Dorian, noticing the mage's intense stare. He sighed again. "Do you truly want an answer to that question?" He asked, referring to the elephant in the room - whether or not Liam would ever consider Dorian a possible bedfellow.
The mage's usual facade of confidence wavered for a moment, the weight of the moment causing him to falter. There was something about Liam's gaze, that piercing, unyielding scrutiny that made Dorian feel more exposed than he ever had before.
Taking a deep breath, Dorian mustered his wits about him. "Well," he began, feigning a nonchalance he didn't feel, "considering you've so readily provided your candid opinions on nearly everyone else, why would I not seek an equally frank assessment of my own allure? Unless, of course, the great Inquisitor finds himself suddenly... speechless?" He let the tease hang in the air for a moment, though his heart raced and he sipped his wine to mask the uncertainty in his eyes.
"Not speechless," Liam countered dryly, avoiding Dorian's gaze, "just checking to see if you truly must know."
"For all my bravado, Inquisitor," Dorian continued, more earnestly now, the playful edge to his voice replaced by sincerity, "I genuinely wish to know. Not because I'm particularly eager to join some sort of roster or list, but because... Well, this entire evening has felt rather like dancing around the edges of something. And I'd much prefer to confront things head-on than to dwell in suppositions and maybes."
"Dancing around the edge?" Liam frowned. "Here I thought we were having a bit of harmless fun... And in truth, I do not think you need a 'frank assessment of your own allure'. You keep going on and on about your many talents and virtues, and we both know it comes off as arrogant, but alas, you can afford it." The last part made Dorian's heart leap. Still, Liam pulled up an eyebrow. "Do you really need me to tell you that you're one of the most eligible bachelors in Skyhold, and that the only reason most people here refrain from casually trying to hump you is because they're afraid of all this... Tevinter aura?"
Dorian blinked, momentarily taken aback by Liam's candid words. The rush of feelings, of surprise and gratification, caused a genuine smile to tug at the corner of his lips, though he tried to keep his usual composure.
"Ah, the Tevinter aura," he responded with a chuckle, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "A combination of danger, allure, and the subtle scent of dragon's blood incense. Quite the deterrent, isn't it?" He leaned in, the playful gleam returning to his eyes. "But what I'm truly wondering, Inquisitor, is if that 'Tevinter aura' is what's kept you at bay as well. Or perhaps you've been considering braving its perceived dangers for something... worthwhile? Or is it, perhaps, that you've met your match in charisma and wits, and you're just not sure how to handle it? I've always found the dance of words and intentions to be quite thrilling, wouldn't you agree?" With that, he took another sip of his wine, holding Liam's gaze with an air of playful challenge.
Seemingly unfazed by Dorian's attempts at being witty or seductive, Liam shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing of the sort. Do you take me for someone who would be deterred by a little blood or some prejudice?" There was a bit of hurt in his tone, and he shifted on his seat in a seemingly nervous way. "If you insist, I can tell you my subjective thoughts on you, but I am fairly certain you would not want to hear them. As much as you claim to not like suppositions and maybes, I think that's where you thrive. This dance around the truth... that's you. Not bluntness. That is other men's thing. That's Bull asking me if I'm up for a 'good hard fuck' after a sparring match," Liam said, the last part intentionally blunt to drive home his point.
Dorian's usually poised demeanour faltered slightly. The hurt he glimpsed in Liam's tone caught him off guard, and the blunt reminder of Bull's proposition made him shift in his seat, a hint of unease flashing across his face.
"Intriguing," Dorian began, choosing his words carefully, attempting to mask the uncertainty that had suddenly sprouted. "You're absolutely right. I do thrive in the dance. The dance of words, of gestures, of carefully crafted appearances. It's been a way of life, a Tevinter dance, if you will. And you, Inquisitor," he added, a playful lilt to his voice, "have been an impressively elusive dance partner."
Liam nodded his head in a mocking imitation of a bow. How could he still be so calm and confident, despite their current topic?
Clearing his throat and leaning slightly closer, Dorian asked in a hushed tone, "But since we're being candid, and while I do adore our verbal waltz, perhaps it's time for a change of tune? So, Inquisitor, what are these subjective thoughts of yours? I'm a big boy, I can handle them." Despite the bravado in his words, there was a vulnerability in Dorian's eyes that he couldn't fully hide.
Liam raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. "On your head be it," he said. "What do you want to know? What I think of your magical abilities? Your eloquence? Your looks? Your fashion style? The moustache?"
Dorian raised a finger and waved it in a circle, pretending to consider, even if his heart was thudding loudly in his chest. "Ah, let's see. Well, I already know I'm an exceptional mage, no need to inflate my ego there further," he began, his voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. "Eloquence? Again, you've already lauded my gift for words, so let's skip that. However," Dorian drawled, "looks, fashion style, and... the moustache?" His fingers brushed the edges of the said facial hair, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "Do enlighten me, Inquisitor. But remember, my feelings are a fragile, delicate thing," he added with a wink, injecting as much playful melodrama into his voice as he could muster.
"Too late for fragility now, 'big boy'. If you're offended, that's your fault now," Liam said, his voice taking on a dominant, almost predatory tone that took Dorian aback, but in a promising way.
"Looks..." Liam let his piercing blue eyes roam Dorian up and down in a way that made the mage feel somehow flustered. "You've said it before yourself - bred to perfection. Your parents may hate each other, but they did create a work of art."
The Inquisitor didn't smile or grin, instead looked at Dorian with an intense stare. Dorian felt a blush creeping up his neck, a rare occurrence for someone who always seemed so confident and assured. Liam's words and the rawness of his gaze, an odd mix of brutal honesty and admiration, had the Tevinter mage momentarily stunned.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he managed to reclaim some of his bravado. "Well, the Pavus lineage does have its advantages," Dorian remarked, trying to play off the flattery. He smoothed his robes with a hand, trying to appear casual. "But you did promise an assessment, not just a look-see. My fashion? The fabulous ensemble before you?" He posed dramatically, arching an eyebrow. "And of course," he smirked, twirling the end of his moustache between his fingers, "the crowning glory that seems to capture everyone's attention - my impeccable facial hair. Thoughts, Inquisitor?"
"The fashion is... easy on the eyes, I'd say. I'm not sure, though. You've criticized my boots so often now, it has seriously made me question my own tastes. Perhaps I'm just not as refined as you," Liam said theatrically. Yet, there was still no smile. "But the moustache? Truly, I hate it."
The bluntness of this sentence hurt. Quite a lot. Then, however, Dorian saw something twitch in the corners of Liam's mouth.
"The only thing I hate more than the moustache is the fact that you can pull it off. It's utterly distracting, really," he sighed playfully and finally smirked.
Dorian placed a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded expression. "Ah, Inquisitor, you almost gave me a heart attack. To think I would've died of shock in this dimly lit room, surrounded by empty wine cups." He paused for dramatic effect. "A truly tragic fate."
Then, he allowed a cheeky grin to spread across his face.
"But 'utterly distracting', you say?" Dorian leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave, the sultriness evident. "I can think of many things that can be distracting, Inquisitor. But the moustache? It's merely an appetizer, a tantalizing start before diving into the main course." He winked, the challenge clear in his gaze. "Still, it's reassuring to know it has such a profound impact on the mighty Inquisitor. Anything else you find... distracting about me?"
"No, I'm pretty sure it's the facial hair," Liam said in mock confidence. "But you're right, I can't allow you to die here, and not without wine." The Inquisitor rose from his seat in a graceful motion. "Was the vintage I picked to your tastes, Lord Pavus? Or are you so heartbroken about my assessment of your allure that you're going to ghost me while I'm away getting a fresh jug?"
Dorian remained seated, making an exaggerated gesture of clutching his pearls, though of course, he wasn't wearing any. "Oh, the audacity! The sheer brazenness! To critique a Tevinter mage's impeccable hairdo choices and then insinuate that he'd run away from a little criticism?" He tutted, shaking his head. "I must admit, your assessment of my moustache was truly heart-wrenching, but I've faced scarier things than the Inquisitor's tastes. Like an Antivan hairdresser with a vendetta."
Resting his chin on his palm and fluttering his eyelashes, Dorian added playfully, "And as for the wine, it was delightful. But don't worry. I shan't vanish. If only to be a thorn in your side, or to regale you with the glories of Tevinter fashion. So, by all means, fetch another jug. But if you come back with something subpar, I may just have to critique your taste in wines as well. Fair warning."
Liam shrugged. "Thanks for the warning I guess. I'm going to just get another jug of this, then." He picked the empty jug from the table and walked towards the stairs. "Oh, and when I return, I'll hear your assessment of me. Fair warning."
With that, he was gone, leaving Dorian to his own nervous heartbeat.