[ Sebastian has no earthly idea why he's doing this, why he's heading out in a way that feels much too like sneaking, with a quick note scribbled on a post-it and left somewhere that Joseph is bound to see but not immediately, but he is. He...sure is. And if he would take a moment to be honest with himself, he'd know exactly why he's doing this. Maybe later.
Comm device left at home, but clear enough instructions to get him where he's going (and a tip left to a taxi driver that felt more like a thanks for not dumping him in an alley than anything) find him at a park familiar in passing and little more. It's probably beautiful in a certain light.
Autumn has left in a chill in the air, but not enough to bite, not quite enough to cloud his breath, but enough he's dressed for the potential with a light jacket, everything he's wearing in various shades of brown, aside from the blue henley. Casual, comfortable, unarmed. Might as well be naked.
It's easy enough to spot the bench he's looking for and he shakes his head as one last weak attempt to question himself goes unheeded and dismissed, and he at least has the decency to scuff a step or two as he approaches. He wouldn't normally consider himself subtle, but he has a pretty good idea what Astarion might be capable of when startled. Better to announce himself.
He hadn't wasted any time, might be a couple minutes late through very little fault of his own, but Astarion being there ahead of him means he has no further time to reconsider, which is just as well. He'd prefer not to. If anything, he's actually a little surprised the man—vampire?—he should ask about the ears, actually—didn't jump him after all. He half expected it, and might have just gone with it. But he appreciates the civility of this incredibly strange situation.
So, now what? ]
Sorry I'm late. [ “I didn't want to come” would be a lie, actually, but he wouldn't blame Astarion for inferring it. He'd also argue he's not late, but it's moot, now.
He continues standing just long enough it begins to feel awkward before he finally takes a seat, invited to or otherwise. ]
So...come here often? [ Someone somewhere would not mind if Astarion killed him. ]
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Comm device left at home, but clear enough instructions to get him where he's going (and a tip left to a taxi driver that felt more like a thanks for not dumping him in an alley than anything) find him at a park familiar in passing and little more. It's probably beautiful in a certain light.
Autumn has left in a chill in the air, but not enough to bite, not quite enough to cloud his breath, but enough he's dressed for the potential with a light jacket, everything he's wearing in various shades of brown, aside from the blue henley. Casual, comfortable, unarmed. Might as well be naked.
It's easy enough to spot the bench he's looking for and he shakes his head as one last weak attempt to question himself goes unheeded and dismissed, and he at least has the decency to scuff a step or two as he approaches. He wouldn't normally consider himself subtle, but he has a pretty good idea what Astarion might be capable of when startled. Better to announce himself.
He hadn't wasted any time, might be a couple minutes late through very little fault of his own, but Astarion being there ahead of him means he has no further time to reconsider, which is just as well. He'd prefer not to. If anything, he's actually a little surprised the man—vampire?—he should ask about the ears, actually—didn't jump him after all. He half expected it, and might have just gone with it. But he appreciates the civility of this incredibly strange situation.
So, now what? ]
Sorry I'm late. [ “I didn't want to come” would be a lie, actually, but he wouldn't blame Astarion for inferring it. He'd also argue he's not late, but it's moot, now.
He continues standing just long enough it begins to feel awkward before he finally takes a seat, invited to or otherwise. ]
So...come here often? [ Someone somewhere would not mind if Astarion killed him. ]