Hey, you know me. I'm Qunari, we're all about casual.
[Hah. You know, one of these days, he's going to stop living up to that name. To Hissrad. It'd be nice.]
[He nods, though, in understanding, his tone shifting to something more serious. And, more importantly, honest.] I didn't figure you for the kind of person who did. I take that seriously.
Which is why I figure... it's best to ask you what you want out of this. Me? I'm the Iron Bull -- casual doesn't bother me any. [There's a hesitation. Sharpened teeth pricking at a lip.]
[Neither does serious is what he wants to say. But that is the problem, isn't it? Because the last time anything got serious, it might as well have scarred as bad as his eye. Because the last time it went beyond a few fun nights, an unopened box wrapped in red paper got buried in the back of his closet.]
[He shakes his head, instead. He knows all the things he should say. That it was nice to just see the great Inquisitor unwind, that it was good to be wit someone from home, and he wants to help in the only way the Iron Bull knows how.]
You'd like it.
But what do you want, boss?
[Because, maybe, in some way, he'd finally fucking figure out what he wants, in return.]
[ firmly: ] You're more than your race, Bull, and you're certainly more than what the Qun made you. [ and that's really part of what confuses him about.. the two of them. bull's been away from the qun long enough to want other things, but he still won't just.. say that. and mahanon knows it's going to take time--maybe he'll never be able to open up completely--but it does make this nerve-wrecking.
he knows what this is going to do.. in the end. in the end, when they go back to their respective versions of thedas, this is going to hurt. if he says right now that he wants anything other than an occasional night, eventually, it's going to hurt him very, very badly, because he's going to go back and watch bull and dorian work things out between them. and even if he doesn't remember, there's always going to be something there that aches.
he glances down at the anchor, rubs his thumb over the mark.
to hell with it. he's used to a little pain. ]
.. I want to try. [ he finally glances back up again, pale eyes serious, determined. ] I want to see where it goes. [ a pause, and more softly: ] I don't want you to agree, though, if you're only doing it because it's what I want.
[Because it's thirty years under the Qun, versus a year or so here. A lot to undo. A lot to unlearn. And when things start to seem better with those restrictions -- because things hurt less, you don't get attached.]
[He'd like to reach out and catch up that hand. Squeeze it. Like that pressure is going to make the mark or anchor or whatever the fuck it's called fade away. Regardless of whatever this ends up being, he won't deny he cares about the man called the Inquisitor.]
[Maybe he has for a long damn time.]
[The big head ducks.] Shit, this is why I don't do the heart-to-heart crap... [A hand rubbed down his face.] You know if I don't wanna do something, there's nothing on earth or Thedas or the Fade or where the fuck ever that's going to make me.
[ he watches bull duck his head, and has the brief and nearly overwhelming urge to reach out, curl him close to his chest. this is-- whatever it is-- it's hard for bull, isn't it? not just because of his life under the qun, but maybe for a lot of reasons. and he's trying, gods, it's so obvious that he's tangled up and trying to work through.. this.
his chest feels tight, and for a moment, it's all he can do to take in a shuddering breath. after a few moments, he even manages a crooked, teasing smile. ]
I don't know. Sometimes you can be a dummy about things, for all that training of yours. [ his expression softens fondly, then, and he leans in, flicking a finger at the camera as if it's bull's brow. despite himself, his ears are still red at the points. ] It's too bad we're in different cities right now. I'd really like to kiss you.
[Life and sex and romance is always so much easier when the other person is the one getting tied up. When there are clear lines in the sand. Metaphoric and literal. Before he ever got attached.]
[If he never had, then... fuck, this would be easy. This would be so easy. Living in this fucking house with all these fucking memories wouldn't be a problem. Because there wouldn't be any of said memories.]
That's why people seem to like me. I look big and dumb. [Some of the tension in that face eases, something like a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.] That's why they've got the teleporters, boss.
[ this is slightly more solid ground for him (for both of them). he knows they still have a great deal to talk about and work through, and at some point mahanon really needs to let bull know that he hasn't been with anyone like this in years, but this is weirdly comforting. just because some things are changing doesn't mean that everything is.
the last comment earns a swift grin. ] You just have to be a smartass. [ still, he's unfolding himself from his chair. ] You're not busy, right?
[As he laughs. And it feels good to. After muddling through all that heavy crap -- even a little -- it feels good. He didn't really want to touch all that crap anyway. Nothing good came from it. It never did.]
Is that what it is? [ his brows arch imperiously, amusement threatening his mouth again. ] You seem to have a lot of charming parts.
[ his ears go a little pink again at his own comment, and he clears his throat, disappearing from the frame as he gets his coat and shoes. ] Don't move a muscle, then. [ he ducks half into the frame again, braid and part of his face swinging into view from above. ] .. Well, maybe you can move a little. I'll be there soon. [ a quick smile, and he ends the feed. ]
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no subject
[Hah. You know, one of these days, he's going to stop living up to that name. To Hissrad. It'd be nice.]
[He nods, though, in understanding, his tone shifting to something more serious. And, more importantly, honest.] I didn't figure you for the kind of person who did. I take that seriously.
Which is why I figure... it's best to ask you what you want out of this. Me? I'm the Iron Bull -- casual doesn't bother me any. [There's a hesitation. Sharpened teeth pricking at a lip.]
[Neither does serious is what he wants to say. But that is the problem, isn't it? Because the last time anything got serious, it might as well have scarred as bad as his eye. Because the last time it went beyond a few fun nights, an unopened box wrapped in red paper got buried in the back of his closet.]
[He shakes his head, instead. He knows all the things he should say. That it was nice to just see the great Inquisitor unwind, that it was good to be wit someone from home, and he wants to help in the only way the Iron Bull knows how.]
You'd like it.
But what do you want, boss?
[Because, maybe, in some way, he'd finally fucking figure out what he wants, in return.]
no subject
he knows what this is going to do.. in the end. in the end, when they go back to their respective versions of thedas, this is going to hurt. if he says right now that he wants anything other than an occasional night, eventually, it's going to hurt him very, very badly, because he's going to go back and watch bull and dorian work things out between them. and even if he doesn't remember, there's always going to be something there that aches.
he glances down at the anchor, rubs his thumb over the mark.
to hell with it. he's used to a little pain. ]
.. I want to try. [ he finally glances back up again, pale eyes serious, determined. ] I want to see where it goes. [ a pause, and more softly: ] I don't want you to agree, though, if you're only doing it because it's what I want.
no subject
[Because it's thirty years under the Qun, versus a year or so here. A lot to undo. A lot to unlearn. And when things start to seem better with those restrictions -- because things hurt less, you don't get attached.]
[He'd like to reach out and catch up that hand. Squeeze it. Like that pressure is going to make the mark or anchor or whatever the fuck it's called fade away. Regardless of whatever this ends up being, he won't deny he cares about the man called the Inquisitor.]
[Maybe he has for a long damn time.]
[The big head ducks.] Shit, this is why I don't do the heart-to-heart crap... [A hand rubbed down his face.] You know if I don't wanna do something, there's nothing on earth or Thedas or the Fade or where the fuck ever that's going to make me.
Right?
no subject
[ he watches bull duck his head, and has the brief and nearly overwhelming urge to reach out, curl him close to his chest. this is-- whatever it is-- it's hard for bull, isn't it? not just because of his life under the qun, but maybe for a lot of reasons. and he's trying, gods, it's so obvious that he's tangled up and trying to work through.. this.
his chest feels tight, and for a moment, it's all he can do to take in a shuddering breath. after a few moments, he even manages a crooked, teasing smile. ]
I don't know. Sometimes you can be a dummy about things, for all that training of yours. [ his expression softens fondly, then, and he leans in, flicking a finger at the camera as if it's bull's brow. despite himself, his ears are still red at the points. ] It's too bad we're in different cities right now. I'd really like to kiss you.
no subject
[If he never had, then... fuck, this would be easy. This would be so easy. Living in this fucking house with all these fucking memories wouldn't be a problem. Because there wouldn't be any of said memories.]
That's why people seem to like me. I look big and dumb. [Some of the tension in that face eases, something like a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.] That's why they've got the teleporters, boss.
no subject
[ this is slightly more solid ground for him (for both of them). he knows they still have a great deal to talk about and work through, and at some point mahanon really needs to let bull know that he hasn't been with anyone like this in years, but this is weirdly comforting. just because some things are changing doesn't mean that everything is.
the last comment earns a swift grin. ] You just have to be a smartass. [ still, he's unfolding himself from his chair. ] You're not busy, right?
no subject
[As he laughs. And it feels good to. After muddling through all that heavy crap -- even a little -- it feels good. He didn't really want to touch all that crap anyway. Nothing good came from it. It never did.]
[His eyebrows waggle.]
Not even a little, boss.
no subject
[ his ears go a little pink again at his own comment, and he clears his throat, disappearing from the frame as he gets his coat and shoes. ] Don't move a muscle, then. [ he ducks half into the frame again, braid and part of his face swinging into view from above. ] .. Well, maybe you can move a little. I'll be there soon. [ a quick smile, and he ends the feed. ]