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“You look like you could use another glass,” Sarel said wryly as he approached Dorian, offering up a goblet that was nearly filled to the brim with wine.
“Ah, my hero,” Dorian replied, taking the new goblet in hand and taking a drink. “Though I do think I would have preferred if you had brought a whole bottle,” he added, feigning disappointment.
“Oh, I’m aware. But I suspect Josephine would have murdered me if she spotted me trying to smuggle an entire bottle of wine out of the ballroom.”
“Hmmm… You make a fair point. Still, I dare say that it’s needed after all the excitement from this evening.”
Sarel offered up a strained laugh and moved to lean against the balcony railing, staring out over the carefully manicured grounds of the Winter Palace. For a moment, it seemed as if the outside world were frozen, pristine and oblivious to the events that had occurred within the palace walls. After a few silent moments, he sighed and hung his head.
“I’d say excitement may be a bit of an understatement…” he admitted.
“...I’m aware,” Dorian mused quietly, turning to also lean against the railing. “And, erm, how are you doing, after all of that?”
“I think my mind hasn’t caught up to the rest of me quite yet,” Sarel replied. “How about you check back with me tomorrow?”
Dorian let out a faint snort. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”
Sarel hummed once before falling silent.
Dorian sighed and passed the goblet over. “You probably need this more than I do.”
“You know I don’t really like wine, Dorian,” he reminded gently.
“This seems like the perfect opportunity to change that, then.”
Sarel rolled his eyes but did take the goblet in hand, lifting it to his lips and taking a small sip. As he handed it back to Dorian, he made a face with a soft, “Blech.”
Dorian chuckled a bit. “You really do not like wine, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” Sarel replied with equal amusement. “It’s too bitter.”
“You really think so?”
He nodded and fell silent for a moment before he decided to explain his reasoning. “In my Clan, one of our aravels is solely dedicated to maintaining bee hives. The travel is never easy on them, but we manage to keep the population relatively thriving, and we benefit greatly from the honey they produce.” He smiled softly, wistfully. “Nothing can ever compare to Dalish-brewed mead.”
“Ah, so you have a sweet tooth, then.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Dorian nodded. “And, as such, you’re simply particular about the sort of alcoholic beverages you enjoy.”
“Precisely.”
“Hmmm,” Dorian mused with another small nod. He think smiled faintly and nudged Sarel. “But do you truly mean it? That nothing compares to Dalish mead?” he added with a quirk of his brow, suggestion creeping into his tone.
Sarel tried to fight a smile from tugging on his lips. “Oh, I don’t know…” he started slowly. “There may be a certain Tevene that I’m starting to grow fond of…”
“Well, that sounds marvelously scandalous.”
“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”
Dorian pretended to look horrified. “You dare accuse me of such needy behavior?”
Sarel snorted a little. “Oh, don’t deny that you can be needy sometimes,” he quipped, before leaning in towards to Dorian to give him a brief kiss. When he pulled away again, he smiled faintly and nodded back towards the Winter Palace. “Shall we return to our adoring public?”
“I suppose if we must,” he sighed and looped his free arm into one of Sarel’s, before leading the way back inside.