[OOM] Settling In
The room that Zevran leads Zak to, number 715, is much like the Antivan himself. Small, neat, clean, yet cheerful in its own way and a far cry from the rooms he keeps in Antiva City. Those are nothing more than a place to stay and a place to work, a place to keep the more sinister tools of his profession, not a place to really share with others.
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"Thank you," he says again with a grin, and gets up to tuck the little vial away with his others. "I have a use for such a thing coming up, I think. I look forward to seeing what it can do. We have plenty of fatal poisons in Thedas, of course, but few that are so spectacular in their display." Lanthrax, Quiet Death, and a small handful of others. But even those didn't involve blood pouring from the victim's orifices.
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"Drow poisons are often spectacular." Zak agrees quietly, not wanting to go in depth about exactly why*.
*Because they're utter sadists. Who enjoy a good murder the way most other races like good parties.
"I am glad you like it." A moment's pause.
"I am, after all, in great debt to you for your assistance and hospitality."
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He drains the last of his wine and sets the mug aside, smiling, before he gets to his feet and crosses to the dresser, picking up a hairbrush. A few deft movements of his fingers have the leather ties holding his braids out and set aside, and then he picks the plaits themselves out before beginning to brush.
"You have offered me company and conversation, no? I am grateful for that."
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"You obtained whatever you needed?" he asks when he hears the door open and Zak walk in, cracking one eye open.
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Bugger this for a game of skullbones. The drow went to clean his teeth.
On the bright side, the strange white paste that he had to use to do it tasted better than some of the things alchemists came up with, recently.
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The Antivan submerges himself, closing his eyes and holding his breath as he spends a surprisingly long period of time rinsing his hair out. Only when it's done to his satisfaction, and squeaks when he sticks his head back above water and rubs it between two fingers, does he wring it out and stand up, grabbing a towel to dry it.
He at least has the decency to turn his back, so that Zak isn't catching a look at his "best side" in the mirror. Patience may be a virtue that the Antivan rarely practices, but he's not incapable of it. It doesn't take long in any case, and when he's finished Zevran wraps the towel around his hips, climbing out of the tub and opening the drain.
"Just turn the light out, when you are finished?" he says, and then returns to the bedroom. He does not, curiously enough, seem to make even the slightest of sounds as he moves.
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He put the item pouch and the weapons that he'd hidden in his clothing to go back downstairs, back in the neat pile of his other items.
He avoided looking at Zevran, and would wait for the other elf to dress before he did anything else.
"Which side of the bed are you taking?" he asked curiously, needing an answer to that before he could sleep.
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Unfortunately, he was very wrong, and the momentary glance he'd directed at the bed told him the Antivan was still naked, before he averted his eyes quickly.
The lack of light from the lamp that had been blown out didn't really affect the situation much, since the low burning fire was still painting the room gold and black.
The drow simply slipped in between the covers on his side of the bed, directed his gaze at the wall, before he closed his eyes and tried to slip into Reverie.
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