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Lucanis came to his senses standing in the middle of the dining hall with his mouth tasting as if he had chewed on - and swallowed - wet hay, introducing him to a previously unexplored level of disgust. There was a Tevinter curse which, as he'd once heard, roughly translated to "You shit on my tongue". Very precise.
"Mierda. Spite, what did you—?"
The demon didn't show himself, content with silently giggling somewhere out of sight and leaving his host to deal with the consequences of his mischief.
Lucanis sighed quietly and turned to the only other person present, both dreading and awaiting an explanation on what Spite had been up to.
What warmed his heart was Rook's face smiling at him shyly and a bit guiltily. Not an ounce of fear in those open features. Her eyes, blue as the sky he'd been dreaming of for a year, gazed back at him. She was holding a cup of... Of course. Tea.
"Spite didn't do anything," Rook said after a short bout of silence, trying and failing to stop smiling.
He loved when she did that. Loved it no less than her genuine wide smiles, and the tight-lipped ones she sent him every time he quipped something dry and witty that chagrined the others yet unexpectedly delighted her, and the ones that showed her teeth, and the dangerous "I'm about to make your day a lot worse" grins reserved for their enemies, and...
"Is that so?" He couldn't stop himself from practically purring in response and felt Spite do the same in the back of his mind. "Then what is this... unique flavour that I am currently suffering?"
Her smile became smaller, guilt more pronounced. She glanced to the side.
"Spite wondered what I'm drinking. He wanted a taste."
Lucanis snorted, barely catching himself in time. It was no matter of his that on occasion she made herself his least favourite beverage in all of Thedas, foregoing the cioccolata calda supply he'd stocked specially for her. He should have anticipated Spite to leap at the opportunity to try something edible, unlike those wax candles, for no other reason than Lucanis strongly disliking it.
"...Sorry," Rook muttered, her smile gone at the lack of a verbal answer. "I shouldn't have, but I thought it would be no harm."
You. Upset. Rook! Spite cackled at him gleefully, swimming into vision in a splotch of purple, taunting him with a wide wicked grin.
Mierda. He'd go insane with those two.
"It is no trouble. It's not as if he drank poison."
The sky-blue eyes went wide before she caught the (slightly dubious) joke. She coughed awkwardly and took a sip from her cup, but Lucanis saw the corners of her lips curling up behind it.
"Good thing we're not at the Cantori Diamond then. Teia once mentioned that if I wanted to drink something there, the beverage would need to be checked first. Not sure Spite would wait long enough for that."
Rook would never. Poison us.
Of course she wouldn't, Lucanis thought back, exasperated.
The thought caught him off guard. Not that he suspected anyone at the Lighthouse was out to get him, other than to put the abomination down for good, but he'd never expected it from Rook in spite of all of his training and common sense.
"What was his verdict?" He chose to backtrack before he could say something unflattering about Viago's habits and sour the mood further.
Rook chuckled. A sound he found endearing, too.
"Spite drank the whole cup then said he doesn't understand it."
Why. So many. Tastes! Why. All. The fuss! Spite grumbled.
Strange. He never said that about Lucanis making a new pot of coffee or cooking with many ingredients despite it being a daily occurrence. Yet the demon seemed transfixed by the liquid in the cup, looking into it over Rook's shoulder, as if trying to unravel its mysteries.
Rook shook her head, oblivious to their inner turmoil.
"Either he shares your palate, or it's just not..."
Lucanis groaned.
"Don't you dare finish that sentence."
She lifted the cup to her lips and took a long sip, eyes twinkling with mischief, as if she was physically keeping herself from tormenting him with another terrible pun.
He didn't even have it in him to feel angry when she slightly lowered the cup so he could read her lips mouthing the accursed words:
"... not his cup of tea".