[Blame everything on Hawke! While continuing to rub against him with his foot, because he can, and because it means he might have a chance of winning. Maybe.]
They could be jealous of your confidence. Although that's not really the same thing.
[That's all that really matters, right? And jeez, Anders, concentrate on the delicious meal Hawke prepared for you. He'll be leaning across the table to nudge Anders' plate as a gentle reminder.]
I doubt feeding me is what you thought you were signing up for.
[Guilt tends to ruin his appetite, but... considering the topic, he'll do his best to keep eating anyway. And he knows he shouldn't be bringing this up now, so he'll go back to teasing:]
What if I distracted you from trimming your beard?
[He can see the guilt in Anders' eyes, and he would be a pretty shitty lover indeed if he hadn't figured out what causes that by now, so he (very tactfully, he thinks!) backs off, and allows Anders to tease him.]
Hmmm, you know, I'm not sure. You'd have to take that one up with my beard.
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gargleblasted Contact
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[Commence dinnertime footsie]
Jealous of what? My beard or my manners?
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Why am I even still arguing?
[nuuuudge nudge nudge. Wait, can he slide his foot up higher? Going for the inside of Hawke's thigh now, to distract him.]
Your beard. No one would be jealous of your manners.
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[Oh my, Anders, so forward! He will totally not complain (strongly or believably, anyway) about how very distracting that is.]
...That's what I thought. Anyone jealous of my manners is in need of some good, thorough soul-searching.
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[Blame everything on Hawke! While continuing to rub against him with his foot, because he can, and because it means he might have a chance of winning. Maybe.]
They could be jealous of your confidence. Although that's not really the same thing.
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[Oh yeah, well, two can play at that game! Hawke's going to keep nudging and sliding his foot against Anders' legs under the table too.]
It really isn't. They're probably just jealous of my beard. [SHRUG]
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[...this is distracting him from eating. Whoops.]
Anyone would be. Even I am a bit.
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[...Shit, this is not going as planned. Abort! Abort!]
I bet you'd look good with a beard.
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[But! Teasing! Flirting! He's so easily distracted from food these days.]
The last time I started to grow one, you told me to shave it.
[Remember? After he was locked up for two weeks?]
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[That's all that really matters, right? And jeez, Anders, concentrate on the delicious meal Hawke prepared for you. He'll be leaning across the table to nudge Anders' plate as a gentle reminder.]
...Oh yeah, I did, huh?
[Whoops.]
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[Aaand he starts eating again. This is pretty much routine for them by now.]
A proper beard takes too much time to maintain for me. I don't have an hour each morning.
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[He watches Anders for a moment or two before turning back to his own plate. But not for too long...!]
I don't spend an hour on it.
[It's really only like...forty minutes. >.>]
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[They can nom chicken in between talking. It's not like dinner has to be rushed.]
It's as good as, love.
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[This is true! Though a slow dinner means delayed cuddles...]
I have to make sure it's presentable.
[Defensive? Hawke? Nooooo...
...Well. Maybe just a little bit...]
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[...That's his guilt slipping through again. It does that.]
Are you ever presentable?
[you're so easy to tease, Hawke.]
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[He nudges Anders' foot with his to emphasize his point. No guilt complexes allowed!]
I don't do it because I feel like I have to, I do it because I want to.
[He pauses and grins a little.]
I'm not, no. That doesn't mean my beard can't be, though.
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[Guilt tends to ruin his appetite, but... considering the topic, he'll do his best to keep eating anyway. And he knows he shouldn't be bringing this up now, so he'll go back to teasing:]
What if I distracted you from trimming your beard?
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[He can see the guilt in Anders' eyes, and he would be a pretty shitty lover indeed if he hadn't figured out what causes that by now, so he (very tactfully, he thinks!) backs off, and allows Anders to tease him.]
Hmmm, you know, I'm not sure. You'd have to take that one up with my beard.
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I wouldn't dare go up against your beard.
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[Uh, Hawke, that's a no-brainer: it would look awful and you would feel awful. Duh.]
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