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[altusimperius]

tell him how pretty he is

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[altusimperius]

[An indignant scoff,] Fereldan? [Offense achieved.]

The first one, I should think. At least make it believable.

[a pause,]

...they might not believe she's pregnant.

[cozen]

Why not? They have barely seen you for the better part of seven years. Maybe things have changed for you. Or she is very wonderful.

[ Look, he has a Thedosian Kinsey 5 sometimes-sex-is-work understanding of sexual fluidity. Surely anyone can eventually get it up for anyone else. What even is a gene. ]

[altusimperius]

It's worth a try, but you'd better be ready to sell it.

[cozen]

You better be ready to sell it, [ quoted back to him in a bad imitation of his accent and affectionately mocking how dare you imply I might ever not intonation. ] Who do you think I am?

Although I was thinking, you know, it would be a joke. Something to make them think for a moment and then laugh or. Crush in their fists. Whatever they do up there. You really want to convince them?

[altusimperius]

[Another scoff; he doesn't sound like that,]

I'm not sure they'd find it terribly funny-- if anything it's adding insult to injury, since they're still down an heir either way.

At best they'll say fine, have a nice life, and throw the note in the fire.

[cozen]

Eugh.

[ Why do everyone's parents suck so much? ]

Well. Would you find it funny?

[altusimperius]

[A thoughtful pause;

then, a very noncommittal:] I suppose.

[cozen]

I am not going to go through the trouble of making this convincing for a suppose.

[altusimperius]

I'm sort of busy right now.

[cozen]

Oh!

[ He sounds neither hurt nor more than mildly and politely surprised, because he's a professional. ]

Of course. Sorry.