Toss him around

Zevran couldn’t imagine how bad it must be for him to be the luckier one. As he wouldn’t categorise being sold to the Crows at the tender age of seven and then forced into the life of an Assassin, or else, as lucky. He wasn’t going to argue it either though, or push to find out what made Ruth’s childhood worse. No even though he didn’t know Ruth well, they had a friend in common, so that meant Zevran would trust his words and not push or argue.

He let the comment go, and then immediately chuckled at the comment about adopting that ritual himself. Then raised an eyebrow at the invitation that came next. When was the last time he’d just let loose with someone. Despite the heavier discussions about family, that had threatened to put Zevran in a mood by discussing them, he also realised just how thirsty he was, and not for drink.

Every time he was faced with this situation, his mind generally wandered briefly to Merriva. The one he’d had to let go. His life was dangerous to get close to people, but what could a dalliance hurt anyone? It would take his mind off things, make him feel better at least for a little bit. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and began to grin.

Well, who am I to deny you. He said, as he attempted to use some of his, badly learned magic, on the fire so that it would die down slightly and not burn the stew, all while leaning in closer towards Ruth.