{of Bosmers and Bad Men [teldryn x liet]}
"But of course; what else would you have expected?" The Bosmer replied, watching him with intrigue as he spoke. She frowned slightly, crossing her arms herself as she tilted her head back in consideration. She hummed in thought to herself. Of course she didn’t need a sellsword — she could handle whatever beast or fiend Skyrim had to offer, easy, and she was aware that Teldryn knew that, too. Liethelri offered a smile, shifting slightly in her seat once again.
"Quite odd you should ask, really. As far as I know, I’d say I’m quite capable traveling alone, don’t you think?" She spoke, boasting somewhat. She supposed she could humor him for a while, knowing that he’d probably much rather prefer traveling to being cooped up in the Netch until he could secure another patron.
"Might as well, you know, since you offered so fervently. It’d be rude to decline. However, I must ask," she began, standing from the table as she prepared to take her leave, mercenary in tow. "Is this truly ‘purely business,’ Sero, or perhaps another cunning ploy to wind up in someone else’s bed?" The Bosmer teased, flashing a shameless grin as she left behind a handful of septims as a tip.
A round of low and mischievous laughter bubbled past his throat as he gazed at her, eyes hot and heavy upon her form as he let her words flow over him. Oh, he knew the skills she held and the determination she fronted. A woman of her set and heart was a rare thing to find traversing the lands of Tamriel. But he'd be damned if he let this opportunity slip past him again. It had been nearly two years since he had last laid eyes upon her, he wasn't about to let it steal away.
"I am more than aware of just how well you handle yourself--" Teldryn mused, his broad form rising lazily to his booted feet, "--I inquire merely out of an established bond of civility." He sniggered, aware of the netch waste he was spewing forth from his mouth. He knew she knew and that's what made it all the more thrilling, "Besides, denying Tamriel of this face is nothing short of a crime. Blasphemy, even. Do you know how many women mistake me for a 'god'?"
Red eyes --too red-- held hers as he came to stand just a little too close, his shoulder brushing against hers, "If I find myself in someone's bed, I'll count it as a service 'free of charge'."