An Old Friend Visits

Well if that was your motivation, I'm afraid we're going to need more than two bottles between us. Lucky for you, I never seem to lack supply. Only the best of the cheap stock for my good friend. He smiled all too wide for it to be a genuine statement with the twang of sarcasm that resounded. It would seem that they shared an equal affinity for more than just wine. Snide comments aside, Cara was all too pleased to encourage the other man, doing nothing to prevent him from slouching into a seat at the table as he continued dusting off some glasses. There was always a thin layer of dust in the form of sea brine over much of what he owned. He was used to it by now but if their wine tasted a bit salty he would hardly deign to explain himself. He set the cups between them, leather formed mugs, cured in a hard wax to keep from ruin when filled. 

Unparraled company and adoration is one thing, Magnus, he sat down catty-corner to his friend, the curve of the table separating them as he poured generous amount of one of the bottles between the pair of mugs. But if you want my affection I'm afraid you're going to have to do better than this. Perhaps start with telling me what you've been up to since last we met, hmm? How fares Her Royal Highness? Perhaps a low blow, forbidden territory as far as light and friendly conversation topics went. But he could barely stifle the curiosity stirred from the dark pit inside of him, the one warring for control of his faculties with renewed fervor day by day and craved chaos. Wanted to watch people squirm with discomfort around him. And Cara hated it. He tamped it down again, ignoring the pull towards chaos energy as he smiled genuinely at his long time friend. 

Don't you dare flatter me by saying I'm the only reason you traipsed into Ferelden. He took a deep swig from his wine, relishing the full bodied taste. He'd forgotten what good taste Magnus had in wines.