[ He can? Kaveh tilts his head, peers up at Alhaitham through alcohol-hazed eyes. Weird. The scribe isn't the type to shy away from an answer, not even while drunkโ so why is he doing so now?
Not only that, but he tiredly rests his head against Kaveh's, rejecting the last of the wine. Kaveh hums in response, tilting the bottle gently against his own lips until the last of the liquid touches his tongue; only then does he lower it into his lap, head canting against Alhaitham's in response. ]
You've never rejected my questions beforeโ [ he murmurs, although there's that typical demanding note in his tone, ] โso why not tell me yourself? I won't be offended.
[ A strange promise to make, perhaps, if either of them were anyone else. But Alhaitham knows as well as he does that Kaveh is quick to take the scribe's words as insult more often than not. (Although the architect would deny it if asked, of course.)
His hands are idle now; one comes up to brace on the younger's chest. ] Come on. Tell me.
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Not only that, but he tiredly rests his head against Kaveh's, rejecting the last of the wine. Kaveh hums in response, tilting the bottle gently against his own lips until the last of the liquid touches his tongue; only then does he lower it into his lap, head canting against Alhaitham's in response. ]
You've never rejected my questions beforeโ [ he murmurs, although there's that typical demanding note in his tone, ] โso why not tell me yourself? I won't be offended.
[ A strange promise to make, perhaps, if either of them were anyone else. But Alhaitham knows as well as he does that Kaveh is quick to take the scribe's words as insult more often than not. (Although the architect would deny it if asked, of course.)
His hands are idle now; one comes up to brace on the younger's chest. ] Come on. Tell me.