"No, but good guess." Amal remarked casually, one long arm resting on the back cushion as his hand swilled the bottle gently in a small circle. "I left after a few months, and sailed up the sword coast. I had the idea to be a pirate, or a knife for hire. I took a few jobs, and then my memory fades after that..."

Amal briefly tried to force back the memories, but as usual they would not come. His mind then switched to Charynrae's other words, two things have piqued his interest. Underdark bookworms were something he was unsure of. The Underdark itself was a mystery to him, he had been genuinely curious as they trekked through the snow and moors, but had little time to ponder when they weren't merely trying to survive.

Truth be told, his eyes had glanced at her more than a few times, particularly as she undressed. But there was something about her fixing her hair that was nice to watch. Something simple, but she made it seem so elegant. It had been her first words, before he began his tale, that were on his mind. "I have never met a dark elf before you. I am not used to your skills, but if you are someone's lover, are you able to read their mind or spy lies?" He felt that would be hopelessly boring. Not because lying was something warranted in a relationship, but even playful jests could be seen through immediately.

Generally Amal spoke with stilted common, his mouth less used to languages not calishite. It made his smirking, teasing remarks that much stranger. However, here he sounded genuine.

"And what might I do to hear of these bookworms?"

Char was quiet for a moment, pondering his question as she took a drink, relishing in the pleasant burn. “Is that a common belief? That we can read our bedmate’s minds?” she finally said with a laugh. “No, we can do nothing of the sort. Although… you do know the drow have no word for love? And so lovers as you might think of them don’t really exist for us.”

It had been quite the shock when she discovered the approach of surface-dwellers to interpersonal relationships. She had known they were different from the drow, but the absurd amount of trust that was just freely given boggled the mind.

“Well, seeing as you have already told me a story… up here, I am told a bookworm is an endearing term for someone who is always reading. In the Underdark, it is… well, being called a bookworm would be a source of pride and of fury. You see, just like up here, noble families in the Underdark often keep libraries and treasure their contents. Well, as much as a drow can treasure anything.” Her voice was haughty as ever, the disdain for her own kind dripping from the word.

“So, sometimes you want to *hurt* someone, but you don’t want to deal with any immediate consequences, yes?” she said, nonchalant and yet… gleeful as she described the destructive creatures. “So you could simply obtain a few bookworms, unleash them in the library while on a visit to a rival house, and destroy an entire collection before anyone notices. Not only do they multiply quite quickly once they have a source of food, some varieties excrete acid after ingesting enough ink and result in damage to other fixtures as they seek out more books.”

She took a swig from her bottle and paused for a moment in thought. “You could still be caught, of course, if they were seen before arriving at the target, or if there had been no other visitors in some time, but it was quite easy to get away with. Needless to say, they could be difficult to obtain.”

Amal gave a smile that showed his teeth. It gave him a handsome, if feral look. "Well, you don't need love to be a lover, but I can see your point. Your word choice just confused me, I think." He wondered if she had known that surface-dwellers also had bedfellows. It was usually Amal's experience, truth be to the gods. He reclined, however, and listened to Char's story, surprised and pleased she was so ready to share. He thought he would have to wait.

He found himself smiling again as she spoke, particularly when he heard the inflection in her voice, her arrogant disdain so venomous he could feel it in his veins. There was something about her when she became animated that was incredibly attractive. He began to think it was just the thrill of seeing another side of her, which caused him to realize he already enjoyed her general cool demeanor. And then when she was horribly gleeful, he was enthralled. He found he was interested in the story, you could see it on his face. He laughed when she described the destruction and the idiosyncrasies of the horrific literature devouring creatures.

"How difficult?" Amal asked, a sly look on his face, rubbing his well-formed chin. "Are they valuable?..."

He took a swig of his drink, a single bubble floating up its neck as he gulped twice before he dropped the bottle, and he scooted closer. It was almost imperceptible, a smooth movement that was as natural as breathing. "How much would you be willing to pay to get one? Perhaps, I could steal one for you?" He grinned, giving a subtle wink. "I would not usually offer, but I find I have a thing for pretty drow that help me escape a lich's dungeon. You don't find that everywhere."

“Oh, you certainly do not need love to be a lover, but the drow do not know of love at all. There is none even between parent and child,” said Char in a matter-of-fact tone, shaking her head slowly. “The Underdark is a very backwards place indeed.”

She carefully placed her bottle on the floor by the couch. She felt quite pleasantly drunk; it seemed so strange that he had drunk more than she and yet was not falling over. The perks of being a human, and of being so much larger than she was. She might have been annoyed with it had she not been drinking.

“Up here? Unless there is a surface species, it is probably difficult, as like many things of the Underdark, bookworms don’t do well in light. Although if there is a surface species, I imagine there are more than enough petty nobles that would be interested in their purchase.” It was hard to admit that she actually liked the way he seemed to hang on to every word she said; between her upbringing, where people would only listen so closely in order to rip every word apart, and now, when people mostly avoided her, it was a strange and uncomfortable feeling to get used to.

“Well, there isn’t anyone up here whose library I want to destroy. And going back to the Underdark would be a death sentence for me, so…” She offered a shrug before leaning in, her hand reaching out to cradle his face. “You would do well down there, I think,” she said, tracing down from his temple, pausing to define the angle of his jaw. “You’re entertaining… sturdy… dependable,” she continued, feather-light fingers drifting along his chin, neck, and chest in turn. At the same time her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, apprising him like one would an animal gone to market. “Pretty enough for a human.”

And unlike many humans, he had not turn and run on meeting her.

Amal was buzzed, but not quite drunk. He felt a pleasant, warm feeling as Charynrae spoke to him in her special manner. A part of him was glad he had been plucked out of the moonsea and dropped here in the frigid north. Yes, the last few weeks had been a tenth hell, but he had not had to run from Calishite pursuers any longer, and he had met a pretty companion, exotic and intelligent. He had never been one for courtesans, and all relationships in his past had never lasted long, from both his dangerous career and his flightiness. But somehow, this felt different, and he realized that tidbit even before he realized she was flirting back at him.

Ibrandul's Cloak! The thief thought. He had expected her to push him away. She had always kept herself closed off, even from him. Granted, this was not the normal coquetry he was used to. But he had to admit he kind of liked her haughty evaluation of him moreso than the usual coy game. The fact he passed made him feel far more accomplished than if she simply attempted to butter him up. What's more, she kept complimenting him, and he felt a thrill with each new word. He had wondered if her claiming he would fit in the Underdark an insult or not, but it became clear she meant it as a compliment, in her way.

When she called him pretty enough for a human, he grinned widely. "I also do tricks..." He remarked wryly. The idea of capturing a bookworm, something he had never heard of until now, was cordoned off into the back of his mind for later. For now, he was occupied with more important matters.

He curled his left hand and placed it under her chin gingerly. "You're more honest than any surface woman I know, and more valuable a companion too."

Perhaps it was the heat of the moment before the plunge, but he had not expected himself to say that last part, yet he felt he meant every word. His hand slid behind her neck to cradle it, gently playing with her silvery white hair as her red eyes drew him in. He kissed her, slowly at first, but with each new breathe, his lips parted wider and his tongue found hers.