<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">“No,” Vasyli denied. This was one of his usual nighttime activities, though he didn't want to admit that either. He liked his routine, and predictable evenings. He wouldn't consider himself lonely, really. He was content in his solitude, but perhaps too content. He'd come to ask him to come out, and Vasyli was a little bit surprised. Different when he simply blew someone off, not taking them all that serious, like he had the first time that night. Here Kevice was though, pressing just a little bit. Perhaps enough that Vasyli would agree.<br/>
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“Yes, I can gather why you're here. Drinking wine in bed like a frail old woman isn't the highlight of my life, but it's certainly not one I can complain about.” He'd raised his brow but had gotten up.<br/>
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“Mathis will not like this if he finds out,” Vasyli stated, not using it as an excuse to avoid going, but merely pointing out that he did <i>not</i> want Mathis to find out. “A few hours. Not too late.” Vasyli agreed, and part of it was that Kevice had caught him alone. He tended to take people less seriously all grouped together, several conversations going on all at once. Not only that, but the tension with his partner was wearing on Vasyli. He didn't mind getting away from the scene just for a little while. He watched Kevice as he looked through his clothing, all set out to air, regardless of how long it had been since some of them had been worn.<br/>
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“Loose clothing is dangerous.” Vasyli pointed out, a practical reason on top of the provocative nature of each piece, at least when in the air. They had to rely on things not getting in the way and holds to be secure. He liked them probably as much as Osran had liked his own costumes. It had been why Vasyli did what he'd done. “I've had some of them commissioned.” A hint at what he'd spent some of his earnings on, appreciating the higher quality, though Mathis didn't mind providing, he just didn't indulge Vasyli enough to satisfy the elf completely. Kevice had an easier time being open about his curiosities than Vasyli did. He'd been too polite to ask of his origins, and then of the markings, though both seemed peculiar to the elf who'd never grown up around such. Perhaps he would this night if they built up a semblance of familiarity between one another.<br/>
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“They're easy to get into, and once on, they aren't in the way,” he said, shrugging. More like a second skin, Vasyli thought. Lacings were harder to undo, but he had deft fingers, well used to all of it.<br/>
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“Where is it you think that you are going to go at this time?” he wondered, probably something he should have already asked before agreeing. He pulled a gray jacket out with silver embroidery to sling over his arm and then knelt to retrieve an ivory-hilted dagger from one of the chests to tuck hidden somewhere on his person. He didn't know what Kevice thought they might get up to, but Vasyli knew leaving meant stepping away from the safety and comfort of their decorated encampment. He finished his glass of wine before sitting back onto the bed to trade soft shoes for dark brown boots, worn, but clean and well tended.</span></span>