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Library, Sunday

During his re-shelving this morning Face had found the most amazingly trashy book. There were a bunch of place names and terms he didn't quite recognise, but that was hardly unusual, and he could always ask Cassandra for help where armour and weapons were concerned, which would be an adventure in and of itself, but the but the prose was the kind of ridiculous, fast paced kind that was so very readable.

Not to mention there were pictures, which were worth a thousand words, really.

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He tried.

"If I get a vote, I'd go for the second," Face said. "Apart from the the inaccurate part."

"We all strive to be like Andraste," Cassandra said, slamming the book shut. "But I am hardly close."

"So you're saying you're not brave, or smart, or willing to fight injustice?"

Now he was just poking at her.

"I am saying that I am mulish, and impatient, and terrible with words," Cassandra said flatly. "And hardly the Maker's Chosen."

And she would not think about that strange future where she was Most Holy, thank you.

"Doesn't matter if the Maker chooses you or not," Face countered cheerfully. "I would."

Cassandra sighed. "Must you flirt?" she asked.

Yes. Yes, he must.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Not really.

"I know you are not serious," Cassandra said. "I simply do not see the point."

"What makes you think I'm not serious?" Apart from his general personality. "...sincere, sincere works better."

"You have your friend Mara," Cassandra recounted, "... and you are you. You can't be serious."

Also she was her. Ergo he could not be serious. (At least he hadn't prompted her to punch him yet? There was that.)

"Yeah, Mara's my friend. My friend. We haven't made any promises to each other or even done anything that'd require conversations about those kind of promises." Making out when they were both hopped up on sex pollen didn't count. "And I don't see how liking her means I couldn't like you too."

The main difference between them was that Cassandra made no effort to hide the fact she could kick his ass. Face had a type.

Cassandra let out a frustrated noise. Just-- argh.

"You may like me all you wish," she said, even if she didn't fully get it, "But you cannot flirt with us both and be serious."

So no suggesting threesomes, then?

"Why not?" Face asked. "I mean if I was actually dating either of you it'd be different, but as it is so long as everyone involved knows what's happening, and I don't pretend otherwise, who gets hurt?"

Had he met Cassandra? No. No threesomes.

Except on Soap Opera weekend.

"Because then it is not serious," Cassandra said flatly. "You are playing. That is different."

If Cassandra thought Face acted ridiculously now, just wait until then...

"Hang on, I think we're talking at cross-purposes here," he said. "What's your definition of serious flirting?"

"Flirting with a genuine interest," Cassandra said. "Do not mistake my words, I must return home, so if it were serious, I would not--"

Why had she mired herself in this conversation? She felt foolish, all of a sudden.

"I have humored you," she said, "Because I believe you are not serious. But it seems a waste of time and effort."

As well as her constantly wondering about it despite telling herself it was not serious.

"Just because I'm not looking to mate for life yet, doesn't mean I'm not genuine," Face protested. "Don't people date where you're from?"

"I said nothing of mating for life," Cassandra said irritably, "But you hardly have intent to date, either. Does Mara know this?"

"You implied it with talking about how you have to leave eventually," Face pointed out. "Mara and I haven't talked about it since she hasn't questioned my sincerity or asked me to stop."

"I did not imply anything of the sort. I do not intend to leave 'eventually', but as soon as the opportunity arises."

Which was vastly different in its range of implications, she felt. Especially since she was now absolutely certain his constant bouts of flattery were idle.

"Just because something's going to end doesn't doesn't mean you can't enjoy the moment while it lasts," Face protested. "So I'm insincere because I'm willing to let you react however you want to my flirting rather than leaping the desk and sweeping you into my arms without any thought of whether you'd want that or not?"

Because that was a lot less romantic than rude in real life.

Was there a wall she could bang her head against? Just asking for a friend.

"You are not serious because you flirt without any intention of doing anything about it," she muttered, to the counter, which seemed like the best option for her head-banging needs. "I am merely saying that I did not think you were serious, in which case I would like you to stop."

Because it was getting increasingly difficult not to go a bit doe-eyed about Face, as her embarrassing radio with Anders had made clear two weeks ago.

"And if you are serious, which you are not, I could leave at any moment and so bringing it up is pointless to begin with."

[[ thanks for letting me know i got this ping, LJ. not. ]]

Oh, there was one she could use when Face was done with it.

He sighed. "Some of us would rather regret the things we did, rather than the ones we were too scared to," he said. Then that thing he mentioned, the vaulting the desk and trying to kiss her? Yeah, he was attempting to do that.

This was so going to end in him getting punched.

On the one hand, in theory, Cassandra was fond of grand romantic gestures, and this was certainly dramatic.

On the other hand, she was a warrior, and someone had just vaulted over an object at her without warning.

He was not getting punched.

"Maker!"

He was, however, going to get flipped and shoved down against the floor in a stellar display of reflexive non-thinking.

At least Face's point about the dubious romanticism of these gestures outside of fiction was proved.

Still for a teenage boy, getting pinned to the floor by a pretty girl counted a win. "I am surprisingly okay with this turn of events," he commented, because he was him.

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