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Lucanis knows he has Rook's affections. He has never doubted it, never for a moment. The qunari's heterochromatic eyes never strayed from him, and it always caused him to flush, and Spite to purr to Lucanis's mortification.
If he were ever to have a rival, however, it was one with large blue eyes and a taste for gingerwort truffles.
“¡Estoy tan orgullosa de ti, mi pequeña y valiente flecha! ¡Lo hiciste muy bien hoy! ¡Tan poderoso, tan fuerte!” Rook coos as he kneels in front of Assan.
“...Lucanis?” Davrin asks as he, too, watches the display. “What the hell is he saying?”
Lucanis debates for a moment before shrugging. He and Davrin have been getting along better, lately, no reason to unnecessarily antagonize the Warden. “He is calling Assan his brave little arrow, and telling him that Assan is mighty and strong and he's so proud of him,” Lucanis says, his tone dry.
(“Mi pequito cariño,” Rook continues to coo, which earns him an answering trill from Assan as the griffon's eyes half close under the petting and affection.)
“...it's weird, isn't it?” Davrin asks, frowning. “Well, not weird. Too coddling, maybe?”
“Not really - we know how he feels about animals.” Rook stops to pet every cat in Treviso every time they return to the casino - something Davrin has absolutely witnessed for himself on multiple occasions. “It would be weird if he did it to you.”
“But Assan's not an animal - not really. He's too smart for that.”
Lucanis arches an eyebrow at the Warden. “Are you saying that because he's smart, he doesn't need to be shown softness?”
“He's a warrior, he doesn't-” Davrin cuts himself off, watching as Assan flops over onto his side as Rook gives him belly rubs. “I just don't want him to get hurt because he can’t be tough when he needs it,” he says after a long moment, his voice soft like the admission is a sin all on its own.
“He is not a Crow, he does not need to be on guard in his home.”
Davrin turns to face him, looking away from Assan and Rook for the first time since the conversation started. “What does that even mean?”
“My grandmother was a very exacting woman,” Lucanis says with a shrug, as if that statement alone was explanation enough.
Davrin nods - not in agreement, Lucanis knows, but understanding all the same. “...so he doesn't do this to you, too?”
“Cariñito is a very different word than cariño.”
Davrin gives him an amused look. “Oh yeah? They sound the same to me.”
“One, Rook says to me, the other is what Assan is, clearly.”
“And does Spite get a nickname?”
“Pendejo,” Lucanis says, dryly.
“Rook. Calls. Me. Brat,” Spite growls. “Affectionate.”
Davrin can't keep the laughter out of his voice. “Ah, I see.”
Rook finally gets to his feet and looks between them. “Hey, you two. What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Lucanis and Davrin answer at the same time.
Rook looks between them again, and arches an eyebrow. “I am gonna go find Taash - you two have fun. Not too much fun,” he quickly amends. “No knife games!”
“Knife games?” Davrin asks, baffled.
“Cariñito, you haven't been showing your new bestie knife games?”
“I hate every word in that sentence, Rook,” Davrin sighs, though he can't hide the smile.
“He is too afraid I will stab him. Besides, mi amor, you know you are the best at them.”
Rook laughs. “After dinner we'll show you, Davrin - it'll be fun! Okay, I really gotta go find Taash - bye!”
Rook vanishes into the main building, and Davrin glares at Lucanis. “I am not scared of you stabbing me.”
“Oh no?”
“No. You would never do that to Assan. Rook's not the only one with a soft spot for him - don't think I don't know you sneak him scraps from dinner while you cook.”
“How dare you imply such a thing,” Lucanis huffs. “I do not feed him scraps. He gets a plate, like any member of the team.”
Davrin's laughter echoes throughout the Lighthouse.