[The web-like cracks seal right before his eyes, prompting the evening's second astonished reaction in relation to magic. It's not like he's forgotten Dorian is magic or anything, but Christ.]
It's going to take me a while to get used to that.
[He gives the glass an experimental squeeze between forefinger and thumb, and is surprised to find that it holds after whatever the mage did to it. A little more pressure – this time, more than enough to crack it – and still nothing, like he's pressing against some protective shell.
Adam leaves off there (not wanting to push his luck) and makes an impressed sound.] …But I can't argue with the results. [A grateful nod.] Better, thanks.
[And all the more so, with more alcohol in it. He looks like he's got something to say but takes another drink of wine first, as if to work up to actually speaking the words aloud.]
My employer wasn't exactly thinking about wine parties when he put these on me. [The arms, of course, are the only things he can be referring to. It's an apology couched in an excuse couched in sarcasm (with more than a hint of bitterness underlying it all, if Dorian continues to be as perceptive as he's shown himself to be.) Excuses are rarely something Adam feels he owes anyone– but then again, it's just as rare that he finds himself imposing on someone's hospitality like this.
Not needlessly breaking people's things: it's only polite.]
no subject
It's going to take me a while to get used to that.
[He gives the glass an experimental squeeze between forefinger and thumb, and is surprised to find that it holds after whatever the mage did to it. A little more pressure – this time, more than enough to crack it – and still nothing, like he's pressing against some protective shell.
Adam leaves off there (not wanting to push his luck) and makes an impressed sound.] …But I can't argue with the results. [A grateful nod.] Better, thanks.
[And all the more so, with more alcohol in it. He looks like he's got something to say but takes another drink of wine first, as if to work up to actually speaking the words aloud.]
My employer wasn't exactly thinking about wine parties when he put these on me. [The arms, of course, are the only things he can be referring to. It's an apology couched in an excuse couched in sarcasm (with more than a hint of bitterness underlying it all, if Dorian continues to be as perceptive as he's shown himself to be.) Excuses are rarely something Adam feels he owes anyone– but then again, it's just as rare that he finds himself imposing on someone's hospitality like this.
Not needlessly breaking people's things: it's only polite.]