Put that down, it's not a toy

Zevran’s smile remained as he settled back, letting the conversation flow naturally, his gaze sharp with approval at her casual suggestions. Adaria's approach to handling the Merchant Princes’ ambitions mirrored the efficiency and precision he so admired in her.

Ah, now there’s the Adaria I know, ready to dismantle their plots before they even catch wind of it. He paused, watching her with a glint of admiration. And with finesse, no less. Scuttling a few ships is a marvelous choice—it’ll send just enough of a message without revealing your hand. Besides, the ripple effect in those circles will be far more devastating than any overt interference.

He poured himself a bit more tea, continuing in a low tone, clearly delighted by the turn their conversation had taken.

And should the Princes suspect each other, well... I imagine they’ll turn on one another faster than any outside foe. Their alliances are as fickle as the tides, after all. He tapped a finger to his lips, savoring the thought. A few well-placed rumors, perhaps a hint that certain Princes have been meeting with... shall we say, unknown benefactors? I could have a word with some contacts, let that little tidbit drift through their circles and watch the fireworks from a safe distance.

He leaned back, his eyes bright with satisfaction. I must say, my dear Adaria, it’s a rare pleasure to strategize with someone as sharp as yourself. Taking another sip, he allowed a rare moment of sincerity to surface beneath his playful charm. Though, for all your planning and foresight, do remember, my friend... even those of us in the shadows need allies we can rely on. Should the vipers close in on you, call for me, and I’ll be there with blade ready. Always.

Zevran let the silence settle after his last words, the weight of his promise lingering between them. Then, with a small, almost reluctant sigh, he leaned forward and set his cup back on the table, his fingers brushing its edge thoughtfully.

But, if there’s nothing else, he said, with a faint, playful tilt of his head, I suppose I should probably be on my way. Can’t have the shadows thinking I’ve gone soft, lingering over tea and scandal in such fine company.

He rose with a graceful ease, adjusting his gloves as he looked down at her, his expression softening for just a moment. But remember, my dear Adaria: at the first sign of a snake, give me a call. I'd hate to miss the festivities.

@Adaria Campana