"I've had...trouble with friendship," Barcus says slowly, thinking it over. "I'm not sure why, other than perhaps I just got so wrapped up in work I forgot to reach out to people. There are people back home that I...I care about, but I don't think they really know me. Just the face I wear in public."

He's quiet for a moment, then gives himself a little shake, pushing that melancholy thought aside in favor of a much nicer dilemma. "Oh, dear, what a terrible problem to have, deciding whether to make out with a handsome drow. Will my suffering never end?"

He curls his fingers, threading them between Bel's. "You have other lovers here, surely? Or friends with benefits, at least?"