Ari supposed he might have stopped embarrassing himself sooner if Mr. Aymslowe hadn’t - miraculously - managed to take everything so in his stride. Perhaps in the best possible way, too, judging by the things he was saying now. Unquestionably friendly, certainly... maybe even playful?
Ari was probably reading too much into the conversation. He’d never be that lucky. As it was, it seemed he had been lulled into some sense of security, false or not, because he was barely thinking about his words before they came out. “That’d be her mistake then; I’ve always been more a lover than a fighter,” not that he meant lover as in - “Only, I mean, I’m a healer. So.” He trailed off into a laugh.
And then there was the question of Mr. Aymslowe liking to show off. The man hadn’t otherwise come off as remotely cocksure, so he might just be proud of his work, but Ari could feel the flush creeping up his neck anyway. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be easily impressed, but -” he admitted, “I’d like that.” Shit. What was going on?
Ari was probably reading too much into the conversation. He’d never be that lucky. As it was, it seemed he had been lulled into some sense of security, false or not, because he was barely thinking about his words before they came out. “That’d be her mistake then; I’ve always been more a lover than a fighter,” not that he meant lover as in - “Only, I mean, I’m a healer. So.” He trailed off into a laugh.
And then there was the question of Mr. Aymslowe liking to show off. The man hadn’t otherwise come off as remotely cocksure, so he might just be proud of his work, but Ari could feel the flush creeping up his neck anyway. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be easily impressed, but -” he admitted, “I’d like that.” Shit. What was going on?
