He couldn’t - or maybe he didn’t want to - help the smirk that easily made its way over his lips, pulling at one side, then the other moments later. The surplus of satisfaction at seeing her practically fly after the wine as it fell was almost even annoying to him, but it ballooned in his chest in a way that reminded him of the antics they used to take part in to fuck with each other back in Northwind. The nearly sibling-like way that they messed with each other for years were some of the best memories from living through that hell.
’Prick.’ Shorter than the last nickname she had given him during their very first interaction in the ruins, but nonetheless, it suited him. That thought was easier to suppress the smirk threatening to emerge.
Kalt shook his head slowly, lifting his cigar to show her. ”I don’t drink when I smoke,” he said quietly. Clearing his throat, he quirked a brow at her. ”And why would I give it back? Lose the opportunity to see that shitty attempt at saving it? You would’ve caught it if you didn’t drink so much of it.” The girl had always been a lightweight. Was it because she was tiny? Probably. Was it because she never kept herself in peak condition anymore? Also, probably. Was it because he might have lowered her tolerance once or twice when they drank together in Northwind? Not that could be proven.
He noted where she sat now that she had pulled herself back up to sit straight - or as straight as she would - on the rafter. Quite a bit closer to him than she had been before, which brought another small grin to tug at his lips. Of course he wouldn’t comment, despite his pride’s desire to point it out. In response, he leaned forward, resting his arm on his bent knee and staring intently at her. Her gaze flickered to the sky as her magic reacted with the natural storm, but he didn’t glance away for so much as a second.
When she snapped her attention back to him, the question about Northaven on subtly pouting lips, he nodded to her, gently urging her finger to point away from him. ”Wow, you’re quick,” he teased with a quiet laugh. ”Been in Northaven the whole time you were, blue. Ya just didn’t know it. Went under the name Count Stefan Westbourne.” Saying the name always brought a rotten taste to his mouth, but he pushed it down. He didn’t need that name, that part of his life anymore. And by the gods, he was damned thankful for that.
His hand rubbed his bearded chin, and he smirked at her. ”Grew this out for an easy disguise, but I’ll get rid of it soon.” Kalt grinned at her wryly. ”Don’t get pissy you didn’t know. Made an effort to keep out of sight, most of the time.”
Ashetta
kalt
give into the night.
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