Pot and Kettle

The drunken grasp for his hand caught Sebastian off guard. He tripped slightly when tugged, not expecting her to put so much force into the gesture. The sealing of the deal he'd just agreed to. It lingered, the contact. Far longer than he felt one normally would. Or should. Trying to focus on her words more than any gravity of contact, Sebastian merely nodded with a: Indeed, we shall see. Another slight stumble at the loss of contact, but Sebastian corrected his posture and his thoughts quickly.

But then it came to it.

Harmless mischief. As if that, in and of itself, wasn't a loaded phrase. Especially when a Hawke of any caliber was considered into the equation. It didn't allay any of his concerns on the matter. Mischief was bad enough. The tag of "harmless" did not make it better.

Sebastian arched a brow at her. So... he mused, a smirk threatening to overtake his expression. You didn't whole-heartedly agree to that game thinking you'd see me lose my trousers? If she was going to bring up that one game of strip Grace. He wasn't going to fully let it go when an opportunity presented itself. And, really, was Varric the worst influence of the group? Absolutely not. Definitely a toss between several of them. Easy to blame the one not present to defend himself, though.

The reminder of the door he'd closed caused Sebastian to cast a glance back at it. Aoife was not wrong. This time. Still hesitant, though, he shifted his gaze back to where she'd perched herself. He stood rather awkwardly nearby, not having moved since she settled.

All of that faded as she agreed her words, perhaps, hadn't been the best choice. Sebastian hesitated again, this time to avoid an answer he wasn't sure either of them wanted to hear. An answer he'd ignored for a good portion of his life since they'd met.

I wanted to bring you to Starkhaven then. He finally admitted. Allow you to recover in peace and protection. No one else agreed. And Sebastian, unfortunately, didn't have the best sway for decisions at the best of times. Let alone convince people who often painted him a villain for accepting his fate, for disagreeing with how things had been handled that fateful day in Kirkwall.

That isn't why you're here, though, is it? he mused aloud. Rather he felt it a surprisingly clever distraction from what he really wanted to know. For whatever reason, it was a topic Aoife seemed to be avoiding.