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You know what to do.

[For Zevran to be reserved is jarring. It must be something bad. Nathaniel has made the bed and is waiting for them. They owe Zevran quite a bit now, including no questions asked.]

There's hot water on the fire, if you want something hot to drink. [Trying to be a proper host where he can.]

[He touches Zevran's arm lightly before going over to Nate and kissing the man lightly on the cheek.]

Thank you. I'm good. Zevran?

[ He taps the flask at his hip, lips twisting into a crooked smile. ]

I appreciate the offer, but I have myself covered.

[A nod of acknowledgement.]

I've good Fereldan whisky as well, if you'd like.

[It tastes like peat. So good. Nathaniel pulls the bottle out of a nearby basket.]

Good. Fereldan. Whiskey.

[He says the words slowly before tilting his head and giving Nate a faint, playful smile.]

I know what the words mean individually, but I'm not certain how they go together.

Compared to 'good dwarven ale', Fereldan whiskey is nothing to sneeze at.

[ Zevran settles close, leaning against Anders for a moment before uncorking his flask and taking a sip. ]

Antivan Brandy, if you like a little spice with your drink.

[Nathaniel settles on the bed and opens the bottle.]

Perhaps the two of you just don't know what good whisky tastes like. Or perhaps my mother's side of the family has turned me off foreign spirits altogether.

[A healthy sip. Mmmm, dirt.]

It's possible, [he agrees cheerfully before he leans over to kiss Nate and get a taste from Nate's lips and tongue. A few moments later he's pulling his head back and shaking it.]

I'm sorry. You're fond of it and that's fine, but not even the taste of you can make up for... that.

[Zevran gets a nod.]

Zevran has the better one.

[ The crooked smile becomes slightly more crooked as it shrinks. They are happy, he did this, and he is glad for them but...it brings to mind his questions, his aches.

The rather large looming puzzle that had been a Chevalier.

Zevran drowns it with a swig of brandy- offering the flask rather than his lips. ]

It could be worse. [ He clears his throat, forces a little bit of idle cheer into his voice. ] It could be Starkhaven whiskey- now there is a foul brew.

Mm. [Nathaniel sets aside his beloved whisky and takes the brandy, faintly stung, but knowing Anders will eventually grow accustomed to the taste. He sips the brandy and gives a nod.]

Starkhaven whiskey isn't proper. I spent eight years trying it over and over, hoping it wasn't as bad as I imagined. Maybe if I got used to it...but no. It really was terrible.

[He takes another sip of brandy and gives it a murmur of approval.]

You might make me change my mind about foreign spirits.

[Anders settles in between them with his own canteen... of water. He likes a good drink, but he's trying to not set off Justice too much while they're trying to get him back into the Fade. A happier spirit is a lot less work.]

Everything about Starkhaven is fairly terrible.

[He's not biased. He is warm and cozy, though, between them, and he puts an arm around both.]

I haven't tried a great many things. But I'm fond of Antivan brandy.

[ This is more familiar and more comfortable for it, the tipping to nuzzle Anders' shoulder, the knowledge that here he is safe and not to be judged. It eases is mind somewhat. ]

There are many fine things the North creates that the South seems to lack. Brandy, leather, sheer silks- proper chocolate.

[ Ah, now he is homesick. ]

That does remind me- I have something for you. Both of you.

[A possessive arm wraps around Anders' waist. Just. Reminding everyone who belongs to whom here.]

Oh?

[His breath catches at how tight the hold is, and he suddenly remembers telling Zevran he'll ask if Nate might let Zevran watch or even participate sometime. Now the asking is definitely going to happen... later.

Right now, he needs to help Zevran deal with whatever it is eating him without making Nate too jealous. Clearly this means it's time to joke around.]

I hope it's kittens.

[ Zevran actually slips a hand down to rest on top of Nathaniel's for a moment- giving a gentle squeeze as best he can before slipping away to flip through the small pack he'd brought with him. ]

A belated summersday gift- something I think you will both get quite a bit of use from.

[ a small wooden box filled with bottles of oil in various hues and scents- for massages. ]

Here.

[That squeeze of Zevran's hand eases the jealousy in Nathaniel's chest. That's right. Zevran is their biggest advocate. He wouldn't set them up together only to steal Anders away. And if Anders wanted to be with Zevran, he easily could have been, and likely would have been some time before Nathaniel was even in the picture.

Even so, his arm remains around Anders. His.

He slides a hand under the box and scans over its contents.]

These are very fine, Zevran. Almost too fine, to use on--oh.

[These aren't meant for wood polishing. Or they are, but not the kind of wood Nathaniel thought. He might have blushed if Zevran hadn't painted a filthy picture of Anders for him a few weeks ago. Now, he just looks enlightened and interested.]

[He has to release Nate to pick up a bottle, seeing as the small chest is on the archer's lap. Once he's read the first label, though, he's looking over at Nate with a raised eyebrow and the starting hint of a grin. The expression Nate's wearing is very promising.]

Too fine to use on... hm? Were you thinking your armor?

[There's still teasing in his eyes as he sets the bottle down, puts his arm back around Nate, and smiles at Zevran.]

Thank you. They're lovely, and I think we'll put them to good use. And I've something for you. It's not a gift from me, it was left for you, but...

[They both get a quick squeeze before Anders regretfully gets up to retrieve a small bundle, far smaller than he'd been given, and brings it back, offering it to Zevran before nestling back in the spot he's claimed.]

[ There- that is how it should be. Two men well pleased and well connected. As much as he had been uncertain about nudging them to one another he is glad to see it is working out quite so well. ]

Left for me?

[ He has half a mind to ask by whom until he opens it. Oils, a grinder, minerals. Fine ones, brightly colored and beautiful- for a moment his eyes brighten considerable, warmth and joy coloring his expression before the who is answered and he tucks such sentiments away quickly.

Pigments for paint.

Michel.

Zevran closes the chest, hand light on the top, eyes still down. ]

Why did he leave this with you?

[Nathaniel squints. He's clearly missing huge chunks of information. As it's not his business, he'll let Anders sort it out.]

[Nate gets a squeeze, a partial apology for being left out of some of what's going on. He'll apologize better later.]

I'm not actually sure. He said to do whatever with them, or give them to you, and proceeded to be arrogant and insulting and demonstrate every reason why he wasn't a good match. He had to have had some friends among the nobility here, but he chose someone who didn't get along with him at all thanks to how dismissive he is of suffering and I can offer no guess as to why.

At least he's given his word that he's not coming back. Which I think was supposed to be some sort of jab, but you're better off without him.

Michel de Chevin.

[ Zevran supplies, setting the chest aside. That was- he can't think about it for the moment. Focuses instead on how to best trim this down for a fair answer. ]

He and I were involved, in as much as I am ever involved with anyone. A little fun, no sentiment. Before I left for Antiva he came to me, package, which I assume to be this, in hand, asking where it was we stood. What he was to me. Explaining Sesicos, friends with whom one has sex, did not seem to ease his mind.

He said he loves me. I suppose he truly believes that to be the case.

[ And that was about when it all went sideways. Zevran frowns at nothing for a moment before extending a hand to Nathaniel. ]

I shall have some of that whiskey, if you do not mind sharing.

[A picture is painting itself in Nathaniel's head. Michel de Chevin was that posturing chevalier who had forgiven him for his relation to his father without even knowing him. Well. That, and a famously disgraced chevalier.

He offers the whisky to Zevran, frowning thoughtfully.]

Are you safe from him?

Except to get the package originally you had to answer the way he wanted, and when you didn't he sought some roundabout way to... I don't even know. He directly insulted me, called me names, to what end? Maybe so you wouldn't get them through no fault of his own?

[Anders shakes his head and exhales.]

He doesn't understand what it is to love. But at least I can't see him coming back to attack.

[Unless he hears about Zevran seeing someone else. Zevran deserves someone. They just have to find it.]

[ Zevran is struck, for a moment, by Nathaniel's consideration. It is not a fear he has had and to have such a thing asked is...terribly charming. He offers a faint smile and shake of the head. ]

He cannot hurt me, no.

[ Leave him shaken- certainly. But hurt? No. ]

That is what I said. What we did- it was more involved than anything he has experienced before. A game of power dynamics with I as dominant- which is unusual for a Chevalier. Desire is not sentiment. We disagreed- he left. That he has sworn to never return...it feels familiar in a most uncomfortable way. Better for him to be gone if that is the game he means to play.