[Honestly, he doesn't agree. He's in a sour mood, but Sam is being perfectly charitable about it, if not pushy. It's not pushy, however, in a way that is unkind. And particularly that is what makes the difference.
Besides. He cannot be rude to handsome men who kiss his hands like this.
Dangerous. Yes, in some ways. And in other ways, far from it. No, Sam does not feel dangerous. Not to him. if anything, it is the opposite. He feels... hopelessly safe.]
Babe? Is that what you're calling me? I'm going to imagine that is a pet name and not you calling me a child. [He takes his full cup and drains it, too. Why not? He's already tipsy. It can't be any worse.
With the pitcher drained and Jaskier's coin dropped on the table, he moves over to bump his hip against Sam's.] I deserve something a little sweeter. Like my feather-fingered lutenist.
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Besides. He cannot be rude to handsome men who kiss his hands like this.
Dangerous. Yes, in some ways. And in other ways, far from it. No, Sam does not feel dangerous. Not to him. if anything, it is the opposite. He feels... hopelessly safe.]
Babe? Is that what you're calling me? I'm going to imagine that is a pet name and not you calling me a child. [He takes his full cup and drains it, too. Why not? He's already tipsy. It can't be any worse.
With the pitcher drained and Jaskier's coin dropped on the table, he moves over to bump his hip against Sam's.] I deserve something a little sweeter. Like my feather-fingered lutenist.