[Olivier, meanwhile, no worse for the wear besides dented pride courtesy of an embarrassing fictional rivalry brought to life, strolls right out of the war room, making for the kitchen. Her box has already been opened--containing scars that only someone of great scrutiny would notice--and she's only mildly annoyed.
She sees Zevran standing stock-still, less observant than usual, and this is far more unsettling to her.]
[It actually takes him a moment to look up, but when he does he gives her a quick smile - too quick, a smile of kneejerk reaction. He's clearly distracted, and just as clearly not cheerful so much as using his usual cheerfulness to conceal something else.] Oh, Olivier. You actually slept last night, then?
[Zevran shakes himself out of whatever contemplations he was lost in, closing his hand around the earring as he smiles at Cynric. The smile is pleasant enough, but his eyes are somewhere else.] Ah, just thinking about home, I'm afraid. Nothing of importance, really.
But, since you are here...there seems to be mail for you, my friend! [And he'll gesture to the box addressed to Cynric on the table.]
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She sees Zevran standing stock-still, less observant than usual, and this is far more unsettling to her.]
Good morning.
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What's bothering you? [Once she has it poured, she'll grab another mug, for him.]
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Zevran? Everything alright?
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But, since you are here...there seems to be mail for you, my friend! [And he'll gesture to the box addressed to Cynric on the table.]
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Oh. Wait, what if they're bad? Like Christmas, and Valentine's....
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