ic inbox;; drift fleet

[fantachetic]

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[samahl]

[Sometime after the fight Dorian had with Leilani there's a gentle knock on the door. Cyril could have reached out via network, but Leilani had asked him to make sure Dorian was all right.

It's much too easy to fake being all right on the network, as he well knows.]

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[fantachetic]

[ Dorian isn't expecting anyone after his argument with Leilani. No, it was more like beratement, rubbing her face in her own mistakes like his own smell of roses. As soon as she shut the door, he wanted to follow her and make it all right, but his own pride makes him stop. It's likely she'll never want to speak to him again, and he's not certain how to handle that.

It's very likely that even if Cyril had reached out via network, he wouldn't have replied. His focus is solely on getting entirely, obscenely shitfaced in the wake of his own foolishness. He's working his way through a second bottle, sitting morosely at his desk when the knock startles him out of his focus. Or lack thereof. He's not certain any longer.

When he opens the door, Dorian is perhaps more disheveled than he normally allows. His hair is a mess going in all directions, a side effect of running his hands through it as he thought about what he'd done. The pair of sleep pants and sweater at least suggests that he had absolutely no intention of leaving his quarters in his state. Despite his appearance, he puts on a seductive smile that doesn't have quite as much bravado behind it. ]

Cyril? To what do I owe the delightful surprise?

[samahl]

[Usually Cyril would think that disheveled Dorian was hot, but now it just makes him feel concerned. He manages to keep his expression light, though, too worried showing too much of that concern will cause Dorian to retreat.]

Leilani called me. She was worried about you.

[fantachetic]

[ Leilani's name makes his chest tighten, and it takes entirely too much energy to not let it effect him. Dorian manages somehow, waving his hand in dismissal. ]

Her concern is admirable, but unnecessary.

[ It makes him want to go to her and apologize, but they've moved on past the moment, and he'd only muck it up even more. Instead, drinking until he can't think so much sounds like a marvelous idea. ]

Would you like to come in? [ He moves aside to let Cyril in, draping against the door. A suggestion of more to come. ]

[samahl]

[Cyril steps in without protest.]

I think the day an Inquisitor Lavellan stops worrying about their friends will be a sad day indeed.

[fantachetic]

[ Dorian allows the door to close, following behind and offering the bottle of wine to him. ]

Friends. [ The word sounds surreal to his ears, and it feels like an echo. At the very least, he still has Cyril, doesn't he? Nevermind that he was unfairly cruel and pushed Leilani away. Perhaps he is a few sheets to the wind, but that's what makes the most logical sense to him. ]

[samahl]

Yes. Friends. The best of them, in fact.

[He comes closer and takes the wine, but doesn't do anything with it just yet.]

Or so I'm told. I didn't have many who meant anything before the Inquisition.

[He knows Dorian has often expressed the same feelings, and perhaps relating can help, though he isn't entirely sure how to navigate a situation like this.]

[fantachetic]

Now that Felix is dead, I'm not quite certain what I'm left with.

[ None, by his calculations. ..Yes, he's definitely drunk, now. Dorian sits on the bed, watching in the floor that he finds fascinating. ]

[samahl]

For now, you have me?

[He offers. He tilts his head a bit, trying to look at Dorian's face but in an unobtrusive way.]

I'm yours for as long as we're both here.

[fantachetic]

[ He can't think of what to say- nothing eloquent comes to mind, and it's getting rather difficult not to sound like a simpleton. ]

I..Thank you.

[samahl]

[Cyril moves to sit with Dorian and settles a hand on his leg.]

I will be here any time you need me, to offer a distraction, to talk, to sit here in silence. You tell me what you want.

[fantachetic]

[ Dorian huffs, shaking his head. He's not entirely certain what he wants. Mostly, he'd like to drink some more, but he can't exactly do that with company. He would much rather not be a sloppy drunk in front of Cyril. Instead, he simply leans against him, resting his head upon Cyril's shoulder. ]

This is sufficient.

[samahl]

[Cyril shifts his arm to wrap his arm around Dorian.]

Then this is where I'll be.

[fantachetic]

[ It's not an entirely bad place to be, all things considered. He could be drinking himself into a stupor. Alone. Perhaps not the best choice, but he's so remarkably good at it by now.

An arm slides around him and he returns the favor. Yes, this is favorable for now. ]