ic inbox;; drift fleet

[fantachetic]

Comments

text;

[fantachetic]

When the mood strikes me. Thus far, I have been reading the gathered texts of the different forms of magic throughout the fleet's history in regards to magic of Thedas.

Re: text;

[theirondragon]

That sounds great.

[And if Dorian doesn't read that as sarcastic, he really doesn't know the Bull well at all.]

So. If you WERE going to read a story, what kind would you want to read?

text;

[fantachetic]

Doesn't it just? It's rather a fascinating read!

[ He can do sarcasm too, Bull. ]

I am more inclined to read something with mystery or adventure. I find most romantic novels to be tedious and entirely too predictable.

Re: text;

[theirondragon]

That's because they're all fluff and idealized. Nobody really wants "romance" anyway. That shit's a waste of time.

You might like Agatha Christie. Boss lent them to me. I just finished a couple. They're short, but they're pretty good. They're mysteries about this old woman who's, you know, pretty much like a little old lady but she's got this way of getting people.

Want me to bring them over?

text;

[fantachetic]

A little old lady with a way of getting people..

[ There is a rather long pause before the next text comes through. ]

Why not.

text;

[theirondragon]

She's tough to explain, alright, but she's feisty and she sees a lot of details nobody gives her credit for, you know? "Everybody is very much alike, really. But fortunately, perhaps, they don't realize it."

I like her, but hey, if you hate them, at least they're short.

[And he'll be heading to the shuttle bay, now.]

text;

[fantachetic]

[ Like Bull said, at least they're short if he does dislike them. Not that he would put it down until it was finished. He can hardly criticize something properly if he doesn't read it thoroughly now, can he? By the time the Iron Bull gets to the First Breath, Dorian is in the cargo bay. At the very least, he's presentable. Nothing horribly complex, but fashionable at the very least. ]

Adjusting well enough?

text;

[theirondragon]

[Bull doesn't try to hide his appreciative assessment of Dorian (but when has he ever?) when he walks up, wearing something he picked up planetside, opened because his chest is large and shirts are restrictive. He does notice Dorian looks a little tired, but honestly, he looks that way half the time, anyway.]

I haven't broken anything yet, if that's what you mean. [He smirks.] Nice pants.

[He's wearing his pants. With that shirt. Because he's classy.]

[fantachetic]

[ If Bull is showing his appreciation, Dorian is doing the exact opposite. He's fairly certain he's experiencing some sort of brain trauma just by looking at Bull in this moment. His expression is certainly one of offence. ]

Sweet Maker, Bull, what are you wearing? Did you happen to fall blindly int Sera's wardrobe?

[theirondragon]

[Bull laughs, looking down at himself before pulling the books he'd brought out of his pocket. They were small paperbacks. He has big pockets. Deal with it.]

What? I like this shirt, and these are the only pants I have that fit.

[He shrugs.]

I could wear that orange jumpsuit, I guess, but wouldn't that be worse?

[fantachetic]

The orange might have been less offensive to every sense with that shirt than what you're currently wearing.

[ Ugh, this is dreadful, he has to look away. Thankfully he can look at Bull's face and the problem is momentarily solved. ]

I'm surprised you even found one that fits.

[theirondragon]

[He chuckles.] I'll remember that for next time. [Oh yes, he will.

But he spreads his arms wide, because he can, because it does fit.]

I know, right? Why do you think I bought ten?

[fantachetic]

. . . .[ N O. ]

Someone clearly robbed you blind.

[theirondragon]

[He chuckled, shaking his head.]

Hey, I like them, remember? [And a shrug.] They came in pretty colors.

[The shuttles are so small, and this place is bigger than his own ship. That's annoying.]

So, I'm a guest, right? Aren't you supposed to offer me something to drink or something?

[fantachetic]

[ Maker preserve him. ]

I suppose you're a guest by extension, though I'm loathe to offer you anything substandard from the kitchens. Will a passable brandy suffice?

[theirondragon]

[He raises an eyebrow.] "By extension?" You're too kind.

[And he shakes his head, chuckling.] Brandy works.

[fantachetic]

We're technically all guests to the Fleet, are we not? None of us are what we would consider local.

[ He leads Bull to his room. It's nothing particularly fancy, but it definitely speaks that Dorian lives there. If his desk is anything to go by with the notes and books scattered about. Dorian motions to the bed and digs around in his closet for the bottle of brandy. ]

Make yourself comfortable.

[theirondragon]

[Bull wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't being led to Dorian's room. And that's clearly where they were. It looked like his little nook in the library back in Skyhold, only more disorganized, if that was possible. He takes a careful seat on Dorian's bed. Maybe, this was...way nicer than his bunk.]

Don't mind if I do. You've got a nice bed, Dorian. I'm almost jealous.

[fantachetic]

[ Of course he wasn't going to take their drinking to the communal areas. He's not familiar enough with any of his crew to allow them to see him in any other state than immaculate. Particularly if the drinking gets excessive- which it might with the Bull. When Dorian stands back up, he has half a bottle of brandy and two glasses. Misery loves company, right?

He hums, pouring them each a glass before handing one to Bull. ]

Only passable due to the blankets and pillows I've picked up at various planets.

[theirondragon]

[Aside from the brandy, it's a shame he stood back up. Dorian's backside's as attractive as the rest of him.

Smiling, Bull takes the offered glass.]

Go figure, you'd say that. Whoever do you get to turn down your bedclothes, anyway?

[fantachetic]

I will have you know I am fully capable of turning down my own bedclothes. Who do you think did it for me in Skyhold?

[ Dorian makes himself as comfortable as he can at the rolling chair at his desk, turned toward Bull. ]

[theirondragon]

I can't say I ever really thought about it.

[And he stretches, because there's just a lot more room in this room.]

Not that I didn't think about what your bedroom might look like.

[And look, Dorian. He even knows how to hold a brandy snifter properly.]

[fantachetic]

[ He's pleasantly surprised by that bit of information, and a smile pulls the corners of his mouth upward. The response about his bedroom has his eyebrow quirking, though. ]

Is that so? Tell me, is it everything you imagined?

[theirondragon]

Nah. [He smirks playfully, taking a sip of the brandy before responding further. It was good brandy, but given who gave it to him, he would've been shocked if it wasn't.]

I think you're missing at least six pillows.

[fantachetic]

Maker, isn't there a truth to that?? I've been having a rather difficult time finding anything that isn't artificially stuffed with something. Don't any of these places realize the value of a decent feather pillow?