Inbox

[muckspout]

Hello, I am an inbox.

Comments

[cozen]

[ Ah. Hm. ]

Well—

I think you are fine the way you are, Edgard. And you should live your life the way you want, and it doesn't matter if other people don't like it.

But if it bothers you very much,

[ as gently as he can manage, which is very gently, ]

cleaning up a little might make a difference.

[muckspout]

That's all? That'd do it?

[cozen]

It would do something, I think. There will always be people who look down on you because of your birth, where you come from.

[ Both of which are better than Bastien, actually, but— ]

But, you know, fuck them.

[muckspout]

[A long, powerful pause as Edgard takes this in.]

Bastien. You're right. Fuck them!

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs. ]

Of course I am right.

[ What he's doing—what he's been doing since he was fourteen, when he sold himself to a bardmaster for the ability to sleep in a bed and read books, then spent years being strenuously and violently trained to walk and talk and dress and dance and eat and fuck and smile in a way Orlais' upper echelon would find acceptable and perhaps even charming—

It is not exactly fucking them.

But he aspires. ]