“Today's my rest day, but I'll make an exception for you.”
A lie, of course, but a pretty one. If it had really been Jethann's rest day – and he really ought to speak to Madam Lusine about getting more of those, considering how much he contributed to the Blooming Rose's business. On the other hand, that just made him using that line every time someone wandered in all the sweeter.
His current patron was flushing up to his ears, so Jethann mentally noted to take a slightly less strong approach. Not every visitor of his could be Ninette, after all. (Which was probably for the best. Maker bless that woman, but even he could appreciate the reprieve.)
“I, er, didn't realise this was... ah...”
Oh, so he was going to be that sort. Jethann gave an inward sigh, and sat down on the bed, trying hard not to look predatory. “You just gave Madam Lusine money and she pointed to the room, right?”
The man – which was being generous, he'd really need to ask for his age before he got to business – gave a small nod.
“Are you interested?” And, because it was coin out of Jethann's pocket if he wasn't, Jethann stretched out languidly across the bed, taking a sip from the cup of wine perched on the bedside table.
“I...” Jethann smiled faintly. When you could hear how dry someone's mouth was, it was generally a good sign. “Yes.”
“Fantastic. Now, how old are you? I'm not touching anyone a day under sixteen.”
The man straightened, and Jethann wondered who exactly that was meant to impress. He was an elf, he was quite used to having people being taller than him. (He was equally used to having said people on their knees in front of him. It was a hard life, but someone had to do it.) “Eighteen, serah.”
“And do you have a name? Or would you rather I called you messere?” It was a common enough request, but judging from the rather interesting shade of red his client's face had taken on...
“Saemus,” stammered out Saemus.
“Nice name,” said Jethann. It wasn't really, but for some reason people always became... friendlier (and more importantly, more willing to tip) when you complimented the name they'd probably had no say over. “Is this your first time?” Jethann waited for the spluttering to stop before continuing, “At the Rose, I mean.” Not that he really needed to ask. People soon got over their embarrassment.
“I... yes. It is.”
“Well then,” Jethann said kindly, standing up and taking Saemus by the arm. “Any special requests? I like to make people's first times here memorable.”
Saemus opened his mouth to reply, but seemed to catch himself just in time and closed it again, shaking his head. Obviously something a bit more adventurous there, but possibly something that would bring Saemus back for more. It was worth working with.
“All right then. What would you like to call me?”
Saemus' eyebrows raised, retreating towards a shock of dark hair. “Shouldn't I call you by your name? Or is that, er...”
“You can call me by my name if you really want,” Jethann told him, stretching an arm around Saemus' waist and squeezing slightly. “But if there's anything, anyone else...”
The shade of red colouring Saemus' face had progressed to full on burgundy now. “Well then, I suppose,” and here, Saemus' voice became so small as to be almost inaudible, “Ashaad?”
“Ashaad it is,” Jethann murmured as he pulled Saemus onto the bed and – because everyone deserved a special first time, began ripping Saemus' clothes (expensive, too, and he hoped he wasn't about to have sex with anyone too important) off with his teeth.
This one, this one was charming. Jethann could always appreciate someone who was straight to business, and it didn't get much more straight to business than propositioning him straight after questioning him and shooing the people hovering behind her out of the room, despite one's complaints of “This is not why we came to Kirkwall!”
“It is, really,” she said, pulling off her armour with an almost intimidating ferocity. “I mean, sure, the Blight was a bit of a pressing issue at the time, but honestly I was probably thinking with my nether regions. They make a much more convincing argument than my head, after all.”
Jethann chuckled softly, shucking off his own clothes. After all, it'd be embarrassing if a client managed to get naked before he did.
“She can whine at me all she wants later, but I've been feeling so terribly neglected recently...”
“We can't be having that, can we?” Jethann winked at her, and got a gratifying smile in response. “A woman like you deserves all the attention in the world.”
“Ah, why can't everyone be like you? A shameless flatterer and/or liar, I mean.”
“What do you take me for?” he asked, taking in her now naked form appreciatively. At the Rose, you dealt with patrons of all kinds and did so with a smile, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't nice to get someone so... well formed now and again. Tight muscles and a boyish frame, the sort that suggested she could take Jethann quite easily. He was more than half inclined to let her. “I'd never lie to the face of such a beautiful lady.”
She sat down on the bed, grinned, and spread her legs wide. “Good thing I'm not asking you to look at my face then,” she said happily, nodding downwards.
Yes, Jethann thought, as he knelt in front of her and began trailing his tongue along the length of her innermost thighs, feeling the muscles underneath tense and quiver in delight, it really was nice to meet someone so straight to the point.
“You're the one Hawke had, aren't you?” came a voice from the doorway, startling Jethann from his revelry. (Alright, it had not been so much revelry as thinking back on Saemus' last visit; he'd certainly gotten over his initial nerves quickly enough...)
“You...” Jethann tapped his chin, trying to put a name to a face. In his line of work, it could be particularly difficult, especially on the occasions where he spent little enough time looking at their face and would have to use a means of identification not everyone would be okay with. “You're Isabela, aren't you? The girls downstairs have been singing your praises.”
“Aha, I see my reputation proceeds me. Captain Isabela then, if you don't mind.” She smirked, and placed her hands on her hips. “I like being in a position of... authority.”
“Feel free to order me around any time you'd like,” Jethann purred, and from the gleam in her eye that was exactly the right thing to say.
“As tempting as that may be, you haven't answered my first question. Are you the one Hawke had?”
Jethann wrinkled his nose with the effort of recall. “... Dark hair, asked me about Ninette?”
“Yep,” said Isabela. “Hawke's off looking for her now, by the way. They're off hunting that templar in Darktown, but since she didn't need me tagging along...” Isabela's lip curled hungrily. “I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. Hawke said you were a man who knows how to treat a woman right. And wrong. For too many men it's one or the other, you see.”
“Satisfaction guaranteed,” he agreed, with no small hint of smugness. He'd worked hard for this, after all. Only Idunna had come close to raking in the number of people he had, and she'd apparently been using blood magic, or something equally cheap. “So which would you like? Right, or wrong?”
“Well,” Isabela said lightly, “sometimes a girl just wants to be treated like a devastating pirate queen. Is that so much to ask?” Jethann smirked, but Isabela quickly raised a warning finger. “But if you dare use the phrase 'plunder your booty', I'm running into Serendipity's waiting arms, and maybe kneeing you in the balls first.”
“The thought never even crossed my mind,” Jethann lied.
“Good. Now, if you wouldn't mind putting on this eye patch...”
“Er... Isabela said she'd paid ahead.” Jethann nodded, and waved the man in – and immediately decided he owed Isabela a freebie next time she visited. If Jethann had a type, this would probably be it. Blonde hair, dark amber eyes, just a little unkempt scruffiness around the edges... Altogether, very pleasing. Pity about the coat, though he suspected that would just make it all the more enjoyable to rip off, and maybe stain.
“She neglected to mention how handsome her friend was,” he said, lowering his eyelids and gazing up at the man through hooded eyes. She had, however, mentioned something about an electricity trick, and Jethann had carefully and conscientiously cancelled his previous appointment to make room.
“Handsome?” The man's tone was incredulous, rather than falsely modest. “Are you paid to tell people that?”
“Yes,” Jethann said blithely. “Doesn't mean I'm lying.”
He got a feeble smile in return, his eyes taking on a slightly more inviting warmth. “I won't push my luck any further, then.” The man's face fell suddenly, and he chewed at his lip. “Did Isabela mention...?”
“I've got a dagger under my pillow in case of... incidents.” An important feature of any bed in the Rose, though it was odd to be having to reassure patrons of it. Normally they only found out when it was inches away from their groins.
“Good,” he said. “Good. Er... it has been a while.”
“Isabela also told me you're a Grey Warden. They're... well known for their endurance, aren't they? Not that I've had the pleasure, of course.” There had been one that had said he was a Grey Warden, but since he'd also insisted that Jethann was a griffon and literally ridden him around the room, the less said about that one the better.
“It has its benefits,” the man said wryly. “It's particularly useful when you have two Wardens and access to a rejuvenation spell. Makes fighting darkspawn in the morning a great deal harder, though.”
“Work hard, play hard,” Jethann nodded, and, because he was generally paid to be forward, slipped his hand underneath the hideous coat and into his breeches, receiving a sharp intake of breath for his efforts. “Now, was there anything... interesting you wanted? I can't imagine someone like you would have any trouble if you just wanted a tumble under the sheets. Or on top of the sheets. I'm open to suggestions.”
“There are... extenuating circumstances.” Sharp little teeth continued to gnaw at his lower lip, and Jethann was struck with the sudden urge to fuck that mouth. He hoped he'd get that opportunity at some point, and wondered idly if it was in bad taste to try and hire the man. He might appreciate the gold, after all. “I... Maker, this is embarrassing. How to people do this?”
“Wine helps,” Jethann said helpfully, offering him a cup. The man just shook his head.
“No, I'm already pushing it as is. Can...”
“I'm very, very flexible,” Jethann added.
Jethann blinked, and wondered if he knew that Jethann got that request at least once a month. Maybe the shame did it for him. Jethann wasn't one to judge. “But of course. Let me go get my handcuffs.” He eyed the man up and down. “And we might have a set of Tevinter robes, if you feel like dressing up.”
“I brought my own,” the man said, somewhat miserably.
Later, when the man (Anders, as it turned out) was bedecked in a set of robes that simultaneously left everything and nothing to the imagination, Jethann decided that protocol be damned, he was going to try and buy Anders' services afterwards.
He could keep the robes on. They were suited to easy access, after all.
Jethann's next visitor, while no less appealing, was considerably less sensitive about it, storming into the room and wearing the kind of smoulder that Jethann had spent years perfecting in front of a mirror. It probably came naturally to this one. (Bastard.)
“Well, then, who do we have he--”
Right, it was going to be one of those sorts. Jethann couldn't help but be a little disappointed. He had a lot of personality, he liked to spread it around. “Jethann.”
Fenris nodded curtly, and with surprising care closed the door behind him, then stood in awkward silence. Clearly some gentle prodding was in order to get things under way.
“Is there anything in particular you wanted me for?”
Fenris' eyes narrowed, and Jethann took a surreptitious step backwards (and a step closer to his little friend). Then his expression softened slightly, and he whispered something – and if Jethann hadn't been well practised in the fine art of hearing the sorts of things people said under their breath, he might not have caught it. As it was, he simply nodded understandingly.
“I'll go get the handcuffs. Do you want a collar, too?”
A small, almost imperceptible nod.
As Jethann began rummaging through his treasure trove of goodies (which he took particular care in keeping well cleaned), he briefly considered introducing Fenris to Anders, seeing as their tastes appeared so... compatible. Better not, though. If he went around matchmaking his clients, he'd be out on his pointed ear – and probably wouldn't even get invited in for threesomes. There was truly no justice in this world.
“Ah, hello? I paid Madam Lusine, but I wasn't sure if I was supposed to get a receipt or something, and... and I'm already making a mess of this, aren't I?”
Jethann looked up at a face that practically radiated innocence and naivety, and suddenly felt very, very guilty. As though simply being in the same room as him was somehow corrupting her – and based on previous experiences, this was not an unreasonable assumption. “Is... this your first time?” Please say no, please say no...
“Yes.” She gave a tiny, embarrassed little smile, her cheeks and the tips of her ears glowing a faint pink. “You know, the first time I came here I didn't know what a brothel was. It's a bit of a funny name, isn't it? Brothel. But then I asked Isabela, and she was very helpful. She, um, recommended you.”
Isabela was damn well not getting any more freebies from him, that was for certain.
“And you're... quite sure you want to be here?” he asked, because while Madam Lusine would be pissed off if he let a customer get a refund, he was, above all else, a gentleman. A gentleman who had participated in not one, but two Antivan milk sandwiches in his lifetime, but a gentleman nevertheless.
“I wouldn't have come otherwise.” Her voice was still quiet and soft, but there was a reassuring steeliness there too. He was more than a little grateful for that. “But, ah, I'm not quite sure how we're supposed to get started. I'm Merrill, by the way... or was I not supposed to tell you that?”
“Tell me anything you like,” he said smoothly, trying to get back into his routine. He'd had... sheltered visitors before now, it's just they seldom personified innocence quite as much as Merrill had.
“Oh, well then,” said Merrill brightly, and Jethann hoped he hadn't just set himself up for some deeply uncomfortable heart-to-heart. This was not what he was paid for. “You know Hawke?”
“She is, isn't she?” Merrill replied dreamily, and Jethann swallowed. Oh, it was going to be like that. “Well, I was talking to Isabela about her, and Isabela said it might be good if I got a bit more experience. Er, hands-on experience, as it were.”
“And you wouldn't rather have one of the Rose's female companions?” Hawke had most definitely been female, Jethann could remember that much.
“I've been thinking about it.” Merrill sounded practically cheery now. “And I decided that your body type was the most similar to hers. Aside from the,” Merrill made the universal cupping hand gesture for 'breasts'.
“... Right.” Jethann had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to take that. He'd had a fair few customers complimenting his feminine physique, but that was somehow a bit different from someone making him a stand-in for a woman and, more importantly, telling him as much. “And have you thought about... anything else you'd like to do?”
For some reason, he'd imagined her returning to blushing virgin mode. He had not considered the possibility of her grinning widely, and pulling a polished, wooden phallus out of the satchel by her waist. It was unusually detailed, and for the first time in his life Jethann considered Dalish craftsmanship. “I was hoping to use this on you, if that's all right.”
His eyes were still fixed firmly on the object in her hand. It looked like they'd even carved Dalish tattoos on to it, or at least a passable imitation of them. “That's... fine.”
“Oh, good. Isabela said you'd be fine with it, but I thought it best to ask. And, ah...”
“Yes?” Jethann started fishing through his bedside drawer for his bottle of oil, previous apprehension about corrupting Merrill all but forgotten.
“May I please... spank you a little?”
Truly, this was a woman after his own heart. “Ma nuvenin,” he said, because over the years he'd picked up at least a handful of Elvish phrases. (The Dalish elf overcoming his human oppressor was another popular one, even if it did involve painting his face with a design that probably looked Dalish if you squinted.) On the other hand, judging by Merrill's slight wince, his pronunciation clearly left something to be desired.
“Ma serannas,” she said sweetly, and then shoved him onto the bed.
“Jethann!” Hawke's enthusiastic tones rang out across the corridor, and Jethann couldn't help but wince. He was fairly sure she hadn't been quite so loud on her previous visit, and she'd gotten pretty loud then. “We've brought you a friend!”
Said 'friend' looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there, eyes darting around and trying to find an escape route. Unfortunately for him, both Hawke and Isabela had linked their arms around his tightly, and no amount of struggling could break him free from their grasps. If he hadn't had the sort of put-upon look that suggested this wasn't the first time this had happened, Jethann would have felt quite sorry for him. As it was, he let his bemusement take reins. “And it's not even my birthday.”
“Nope!” Isabela crooned, “We're having an Aveline finally got it on with Donnic party!”
Jethann raised his eyebrows, and looked between them. Hawke had her hand placed on the small of Merrill's back and trailing downwards – well done Merrill – while Isabela... was doing the same. (Well done, Merrill.) There was no-one else in sight. “And she is...?”
Hawke rolled her eyes – or at least, Jethann assumed that was her intent. As it was, it looked like she was simply briefly inspecting the ceiling. “Oh, she buggered off hours ago. No fun at all, that woman.”
“So we thought we'd take the party here,” Isabela continued, and tilted her head over towards the man still trapped in her arms. “And Merrill made the most interesting suggestion...”
Merrill started giggling, and seemed quite unable to stop. Jethann let his gaze fall on their captive. “How much have they had to drink exactly?”
“I've lost count,” the man told him wearily. Jethann nodded. It was more or less what he'd expected.
“And what will you three be doing while I... entertain your friend here?” The man gaped at him, but Jethann ignored him. If he didn't know how to handle drunks, he'd lose half his business.
“Body shots!” Merrill declared excitedly, even as she swayed where she stood, her gaze directed at a point slightly to his left.
“Adriano and Katriela have kindly volunteered for the task,” said Isabela. “I mean, we still had to pay Madam Lusine, but volunteering sounds nicer.”
“We?” Hawke asked drolly. “Who's this we? I didn't see you or Merrill contributing any coin.”
“Hawke,” Isabela said, her tone one of utmost severity, “when you're as wealthy as you are, it is your moral obligation to buy us drinks and prostitutes.”
Hawke offered her a lazy salute. “So, if you'll just look after Sebastian here... be careful of Andraste, we suspect she bites.” As one, she and Isabela pushed him into Jethann's room, and then slammed the door behind him.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “I'm, ah, very sorry for them. I promise, they're not normally...” He stopped, and seemed to actually consider what he was saying. “Merrill is not normally like this.”
“Forget them,” Jethann said, all business. “It sounded like they thought you could use my... assistance.”
“What? I... no!” Jethann had to try hard not to feel slighted at his look of sheer horror. He happened to be damned attractive, and got a sovereign and a half for every two sovereigns the customers paid Madam Lusine. No-one else even got close to that sort of rate. “I was... I am a man of the Chantry. I have taken my vows.”
Well, that was better than Jethann being completely undesirable, at least. “Don't worry,” he said soothingly, “I get Chantry sisters in here all the time. Everything but, you see?”
Sebastian looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. It was not a good look for him, in all honesty. “That is... not proper.”
“Nothing worth doing is proper.”
Jethann could practically hear the mental conflict, and it was delicious.
“No, I cannot... I must be going. I need to go rescue a friend.”
Jethann sighed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face as he did so. “Are they in danger?”
Sebastian's eyes took on a surprisingly sharp glint. “He has been trapped in a room with an abomination.”
“Hey, Isabela did listen to my advice!” The other man gave him an alarmed look, but Jethann simply waved him off. “Oh, go play knight in shining armour. Just... knock first.”
To say Sebastian looked dubious would be an understatement, but in the end he just gave Jethann a polite tilt of the head, and headed out the door. Jethann felt he'd at least earned the right to watch him go – though Sebastian had selfishly chosen armour that did not show off his rear end. He really ought to ask Fenris for tips. Or maybe Isabela. In fact, if everyone had that woman's general disregard for clothes, the world would be a happier place.
He gave a wan smile at the thought, then wandered into the next room to join in with the body shots.
Jethann did not receive many dwarven customers. Denier said it was because he was too slight, and dwarves “need something to hang on to, you know?” On the other hand, the man standing in front of (and almost a foot below) him was most definitely dwarven, even if he'd apparently misplaced his beard somewhere. He did, however, have chest hair so magnificent that it was taking all of Jethann's restraint not to reach out and touch it. Soon, he hoped. Soon.
“This is... probably kind of weird,” the dwarf said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. Jethann said nothing, gaze still sticking firmly to the chest hair. “But...” He withdrew the crossbow from his back. “This is Bianca.”
“She's lovely,” Jethann said politely. It was a nice crossbow, truth be told – at least if you were into that sort of thing. Jethann wasn't, but for a chance at the chest hair, he could be.
“Isn't she just.” The dwarf stroked it fondly, a caress so gentle that Jethann would have been lying if he said he didn't feel a little awkward being in there with the pair of them, as if he was intruding on something impossibly intimate. “But, ah, I've been considering new things recently. I haven't been treating the old girl as well as I should, and...” Reverentially, the dwarf placed Bianca into Jethann's hands. “Can you just... touch her?”
Jethann had discovered many curious things that people enjoyed while getting their Wardens Greyed, their Dragons Peaked, and other such delightful metaphors, and he operated firmly on the principle that as long as no-one was getting hurt (or at least, hurt against their will), it was not his place to judge. There had been a handful of instances where he'd refused to participate, but those were few and far between, and compared to those, this was practically mundane.
Carefully, he drew a finger gently across its length, and the dwarf let out a sigh that was practically obscene. Then another, and another, and Jethann let his tongue trail along – only to be met with a noise that was most definitely not pleased sounding. The dwarf snatched it off him, cradling the crossbow in his arms. Jethann shot him a questioning look.
“Sorry. I guess I'm just not ready for that kind of relationship. I'll just be going now.”
The dwarf had made a surprisingly rapid break for the door before Jethann could call out, “Wait! I don't suppose I could...”
The dwarf grinned at him. “I thought I saw you staring. Knock yourself out.”
Jethann gave a silent prayer to the Maker as his hand tangled itself in thick, lustrously soft hair, and almost missed the dwarf muttering, “I have got to work you into Hard in Hightown.”
“We have a few conditions.”
It was always interesting when the more serious citizens of Kirkwall visited, because for all their stern faces and appalled looks, they tended to be the kinkiest of the lot. Based on that, the Guard-Captain herself and her guardsman beau ought to be enough to make even his toes curl.
“Number one: you are not to tell anyone we have visited.”
“I offer strict confidentiality,” Jethann reassured her. It was a downright lie, but they didn't need to know that.
“Number two: you are not to tell Isabela that we have visited.”
“My lips are sealed – unless you want them open, of course.” He winked. This did not, however, lighten the mood.
“You will refer to him,” she pointed at the man to her side, who gave him a small nod of acknowledgement, “as Donnen, and myself as Marigold. I don't know if you know our real names,” Jethann did, “and I don't care.” She obviously did.
“Finally,” she said, and it was a little unnerving how stern someone could sound towards someone she was about to have a threesome with – not least one that had involved him getting out a gag, some rope and a blindfold, “the safeword is 'slattern'.”
Jethann could not hold his tongue any longer, it seemed. “Slattern?” he asked, trying to sound more curious than judgemental. Maker have mercy on the person who judged this woman. Even he was more than a little in awe.
Oddly enough, this drew from her – if not quite a smile – a look that was a great deal kinder, the harsh edges smoothed away. “It's... memorable.”
The evening itself later turned out to be memorable, and had earned him a wedding invitation a few months later. Jethann figured that signified a job well done.
“Ah, my dear Jethann. It has been too long, has it not?”
Jethann's dagger, now less than an inch away from the newcomer's throat, clearly agreed. “Zevran,” he growled. If he was quite honest, his voice really wasn't meant for growling, but he decided a man with a dagger at his throat was in no position to judge.
Zevran, the bastard, simply laughed, the exposed skin of his neck jolting ever closer to the edge of the blade, apparently without concern. “Is that any way to treat an old friend? Truly, I am hurt.”
“That's still an option.”
Zevran raised an eyebrow, looking smug enough that Jethann was tempted to just slit his throat and be done with it. Madam Lusine had a system in place if... handsy customers tripped and fell and broke their necks, even if they'd somehow fallen on a knife several times in the process. “Does it not bring back fond memories? Ah, the good old days.”
“You slept with me and then tried to kill me.”
“Tried being the operative word, no? After all, you would not be standing here today if I had succeeded.” He considered this for a moment. “I assume. Blood magic is a most curious thing.” Zevran leaned closer, and, much to his disgust, Jethann found himself pulling the dagger away just so Zevran wouldn't be the first person to die accidentally from a self-inflicted slit throat. “As it was, you were left with the upper hand that night, and yet something stayed your hand, did it not? Perhaps because I showed you there was more to life than being a noblewoman's plaything, yes?”
“I didn't kill you because I was seventeen and an idiot,” Jethann said coldly.
“So instead, you left me handcuffed to the bed, and fled into the night. A most ingenious move, I might add.”
“A stupid one.”
Zevran chuckled, and screw the knife (but not literally, because ow), because Jethann was seconds away from punching him in the face. “Ah, how bitter the years have made you. I find it best not to dwell on bad memories.”
Jethann scowled at him. “So I should remember the sex, and forget the part where you tried to slip a knife into my back?”
“Well, the sex was especially good, if I remember rightly. And look where it's found you! A place in one of the finest establishments in the Free Marches. Not a position to be sniffed at.”
“We can't all be Crows,” he snapped, inching the blade closer to Zevran and forcing him to take a step back. “So, what? Are you here to finish the job? Better late than never?”
“Oh, how you wound me!”
“It is tempting.”
Zevran shook his head, but still had the sheer audacity to be smiling. “I left that life behind years ago. I simply found myself in Kirkwall, and thought to visit the famous Blooming Rose – and who should I come across but yet another charming figure from my past?”
“The charming figure holding an edged weapon.”
Zevran let out a put upon sigh, and in one swift movement had Jethann's arm forced uselessly behind his back, the dagger falling to the ground. “It was getting rather tiresome, my dear Jethann.”
“I'm not your – you tried to kill me!”
“And I failed, as we've already established,” Zevran said patiently. “Do keep up. In any case, if I wanted you dead, do you really think you'd still be standing here?”
“You failed back then,” Jethann pointed out. He felt his honour demanded it.
“You were young and stupid, I was young and stupid. It was a miracle we didn't run away together to join the Dalish, idealistic as we were.”
“They do have very talented craftsmen,” Jethann said idly, before he could catch himself, and then schooled his features back into a frown. “Okay, we've had our touching reunion. You can leave now.”
“But we have so much catching up to do! I'm sure you have had countless... adventures since last we spoke.”
Jethann's lip curled. “As I recall, we didn't do much talking.” Zevran smirked back at him, and really he should stop pretending this was going anywhere other than where it so obviously was. He sighed, and quick as a flash had Zevran handcuffed to the bedpost. (His handcuffs were a constant companion; never too far away.)
“Ah, now this brings back memories.”
“Yes, it does,” Jethann murmured, pushing Zevran none-too-gently onto the bed and straddling him. “And if you try to stab me, I'm snapping your neck. Just so you know.”