[ Mythos thinks his face is pretty. This is noted and tucked aside. ]
I don't know if that is fair to say... Plenty of people are as intense or even more so when in the throes of passion. [ His smile crinkles at his eyes more so here before he shrugs. ] Still, you saw a rarer side of me. Not many can put me on my back like that.
[ But Clive's admittance is a genuine surprise; Sleipnir's eyebrows raise. ]
You are joking! It is one of my favorite things about you, swordsmanship notwithstanding.
[ Perhaps he shouldn't have been drinking during Clive's performance; it's making the wine hit a little harder. ]
Indeed, my liege does. I'm glad you can appreciate it.
[ Fear and awe are what a lot of people feel when they see or think of Barnabas Tharmr. Which is a shame, really, for he is so much more than that. And he should be treated as such. Although, His Majesty is a king and does get treated well... but that isn't quite what he meant either. What was it he meant? Sleipnir is no longer sure. He also wonders when his glass shall be returned to him.
Admittedly Sleipnir is surprised Mythos has yet to let go of him. It's also the first time he has used his name- the back of his mind notes it this time, to be recalled up later and contemplated like a crystal held to the light. What takes the forefront of his mind is the other's observation. Sleipnir isn't used to having someone call out his emotions so readily; it takes a little bit of the wind out of his sails. All the same he huffs a breath out through his nose. ]
I do not wish to be fussed over when my concern lies with you.
[ Now the bartender sets down a renewed glass of wine for Sleipnir who at the subtle clink of glass against wood lessens his grip on the front of his dress, although his gaze does not leave Clive. ]
no subject
I don't know if that is fair to say... Plenty of people are as intense or even more so when in the throes of passion. [ His smile crinkles at his eyes more so here before he shrugs. ] Still, you saw a rarer side of me. Not many can put me on my back like that.
[ But Clive's admittance is a genuine surprise; Sleipnir's eyebrows raise. ]
You are joking! It is one of my favorite things about you, swordsmanship notwithstanding.
[ Perhaps he shouldn't have been drinking during Clive's performance; it's making the wine hit a little harder. ]
Indeed, my liege does. I'm glad you can appreciate it.
[ Fear and awe are what a lot of people feel when they see or think of Barnabas Tharmr. Which is a shame, really, for he is so much more than that. And he should be treated as such. Although, His Majesty is a king and does get treated well... but that isn't quite what he meant either. What was it he meant? Sleipnir is no longer sure. He also wonders when his glass shall be returned to him.
Admittedly Sleipnir is surprised Mythos has yet to let go of him. It's also the first time he has used his name- the back of his mind notes it this time, to be recalled up later and contemplated like a crystal held to the light. What takes the forefront of his mind is the other's observation. Sleipnir isn't used to having someone call out his emotions so readily; it takes a little bit of the wind out of his sails. All the same he huffs a breath out through his nose. ]
I do not wish to be fussed over when my concern lies with you.
[ Now the bartender sets down a renewed glass of wine for Sleipnir who at the subtle clink of glass against wood lessens his grip on the front of his dress, although his gaze does not leave Clive. ]