He stares at the beer, looks up at Cullen, back to the beer, and then pulls the tankard the last few inches, as reverently as if someone just dropped Andraste's ashes in front of him. "Your generosity will not go unsung," he says.
One long sip. His eyes close in bliss: the drink tastes just as rich and delicious as it smells. After an extra moment to savor it, he takes another sip, then pushes the tankard back to Cullen.
"You lucky bastard. I'll save my last sip for later."
no subject
Alistair wasn't expecting that to work.
He stares at the beer, looks up at Cullen, back to the beer, and then pulls the tankard the last few inches, as reverently as if someone just dropped Andraste's ashes in front of him. "Your generosity will not go unsung," he says.
One long sip. His eyes close in bliss: the drink tastes just as rich and delicious as it smells. After an extra moment to savor it, he takes another sip, then pushes the tankard back to Cullen.
"You lucky bastard. I'll save my last sip for later."
Assuming there's any left.