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It was getting dark outside and Quill and Casta were drinking coffee in her parlor.

"Have you read anything by Crassius other than the Lusty Argonian Maid?" Casta asked.

"Well, actually no," Quill-Weave admitted. "I mean, isn't that enough?"

"Here," Casta said, rising from the couch beside Quill-Weave and crossing to her bookshelf. "I've got a copy of the Dance of the Three Legged Guar around here somewhere."

Quill sipped again at her cup as she eyed Casta's backside, but all too soon she'd found the book and handed it to Quill.

There was no illustration on the cover, but the inside facing page had an illustration that made it very, very clear exactly what the Guar's third leg was.

"Oh gods," Quill muttered. "Please tell me this isn't going to be about..."

"Read," Casta said while crossing behind the couch to read along over Quill-Weave's shoulder.

"Not very long," Quill said later as she closed the book.

"Well, they say 'brevity is the soul of wit'."

Quill turned and looked at Casta. "Did you think that was witty?"

Casta shrugged and returned to sit beside Quill-Weave.

"Well, at least it wasn't what you thought it was going to be about, right?"

"Thank the gods for small favors, no. Nobody humped the Guar. But Casta, that's just outright pornography, isn't it? It certainly gets specific!"

"I suppose parts of it are. But the characterization is pretty impressive don't you think?"

"There's also an awful lot of Master/Servant interaction. That bothers me too."

"Well, at least the Master is a Mistress. Surely at least that part you appreciate? But to be fair, those themes do run through most of Crassius' works. Be honest... did you enjoy reading it?"

"Do I have to admit it?"

Casta laughed at that. "Just what I thought!"

"But I don't like that I liked it!"

"Ah, that's just your bourgeois morality showing. Surely your interest in the lower classes has demonstrated that there are other valid standards?"

"Valid, yes, but I still view them from the perspective of my own more traditional morality."

"And yet, you got horny reading that."

"Casta! I did not!"

"Uh huh."

"Well, if I did it's just because it was so outlandish!"

Casta put her head in Quill-Weave's lap. "We get pretty outlandish at times. I like outlandish."

Quill began to run her fingers through Casta's hair. "Well, I do too. But only when I'm alone with you."

"Aw. You're sweet, Quill."

A knock came from the door.

"I expect that's him. Come on." Casta said, getting up.

Quill-Weave felt a little nervous, though she didn't quite know why. She'd met people of the upper classes before, and this Crassius Curio had origins in a quite lowly caste. But still...

Quill stood a little behind Casta when she opened the door. Outside stood a tall man covered by a black riding cloak, with a hat pulled low. He looked up at the opening of the door and Quill saw a pair of dark but piercing eyes from within the shadows.

"Casta Scribonia, I presume?" came the deep but lilting voice within.

"I am! And you are?"

A hand shot to Casta's lips.

"I am he. Please, though, may I come inside first?"

Casta stood back to let the famous author, playwright and Hlaalu Councilor into her house.

Those dark eyes flashed to Quill-Weave instantly and she noticed a quick movement underneath the cloak.

"And who is this?" he asked, stepping back.

"Introductions would be better done inside, don't you think? But this is Quill-Weave, another author and good friend of mine. I'm sorry I didn't warn you before, but I wasn't sure if she would be able to come."

At the name, the eyes and stance relaxed and he nodded and stepped inside while Casta shut the door behind him.

"I must apologize for the dramatic entrance, Quill-Weave," he said as he removed his hat and unfastened the clasp of his cloak. "I hope you will forgive me. As a Councilor of House Hlaalu, it is necessary for me to be on guard when travelling abroad."

He held his hat and cloak out, and it was abundantly clear immediately that he was used to having servants attend to him. Casta took them and hung them on a nearby hook.

Quill had formed a negative impression of the man before she'd ever laid eyes on him. Her impression now that she had actually met him was little changed, though he was a man that many would call handsome - even charming if you liked that sort of thing. But he exuded an air of elitism that rubbed her the wrong way instantly.

"Can I get you a drink? Quill, can you get that tray of fruit and cheese from the pantry?"

"Actually, I've a gift of a very fine brandy for us to share. Though I hadn't expected the great Quill-Weave to be here as well, I'm sure there's plenty for all."

Quill's eyebrows raised at the word 'brandy' and she turned back to see Crassius produce a significantly large bottle of the amber liquor. She'd never tasted brandy before - her neighborhood tavern didn't stock it. The 'great Quill-Weave' bit didn't hurt either. Perhaps she could at least give the guy the benefit of the doubt first.

When she returned to Casta's parlor with a snack tray, Crassius and Casta were sitting besides each other on the couch. Quill set the tray down on the low table in front of them.

"Thank you, Quill-Weave! Casta, do you think you might bring us out some glasses - also some water... in a clean bucket if I could be so bold?"

"Water in a bucket?" Casta asked, confused but rising to do his bidding.

"You'll see. Clean, please."

As Casta left the room, Crassius' eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. "So, I gather you don't approve of my works, Quill-Weave."

"Do you really want to get into this so soon, Mr. Curio?"

"Oh, please, do call me Uncle Crassius."

"Why would I do that? You are not my uncle. Mr. Curio, we might as well get this out in the open right now. No, I don't like your 'works'. I don't like them at all."

Crassius sat back and smiled. "I respect that, Quill-Weave. Honesty is the only way we authors can learn anything of value from each other tonight. I have read some of your works, and while I don't find them among those I keep next to my bed, I do like them. You are a talented wordsmith, though - if I may say so - perhaps a bit aloof. Your nonfiction is always interesting, but you seem distant from your subject matter. As if you are a teacher and we the students. Perhaps it might benefit from more personal perspectives."

Quill took this in. No matter the source, any honest critique is feedback that is useful. "And my fiction?"

"Ah... your fiction. It is - oh, how best to put it? Dry, shall we say?"

Quill laughed and sat back herself. "Dry? Well, I suppose coming from you that's to be expected. Your works are practically dripping!"

Crassius smiled. "Quill, not everyone is cut out to be an author. Unlike you and Casta, it's not really my main focus. So when I do write, yes, I tend to write about more visceral things."

"Loaves and spears."

"It sells. Besides, I consider myself more of a part-time playwright than an author."

Casta returned and set the bucket on the floor beside Crassius where he indicated, and set the glasses on the table beside the snack tray.

"Talking shop already?" she asked, taking up her place beside Crassius.

"Afraid so," he said, but stood up and examined the bucket. "Oh yes, this will do nicely!"

He passed his hand over the bucket of water and instantly Quill-Weave saw the condensation form there.

"Magic!" she whispered, but Casta had eyes only for Crassius at the moment.

Crassius set the bucket down, then scooped out some small chunks of ice from it and dropped them into the glasses. He then poured a generous portion into each glass, stirring his own with his finger.

"Sorry to be so dramatic," he said as he licked his finger. "But I much prefer brandy on ice. I hope you'll agree!"

Casta was obviously impressed. "A playwright, author, Hlaalu councilor and mage too? You are quite the talented man, Uncle Crassius!"

Quill frowned at the appellation, but Casta wasn't looking.

Meanwhile Crassius was holding up his glass.

"A toast then perhaps?" he asked, and both Quill and Casta took up their own glasses.

"To imagination," he said. "Without which none of us could thrive!"

Quill-Weave nodded her agreement and clinked her glass against the others. There was a toast she could agree with.

The brandy went down cool and a little sweeter than she'd expected. She knew it was made from wine, but it didn't really taste of grapes. In fact... it tasted of...

"Pears!" she exclaimed, looking at her glass.

"A refined palate! Yes, indeed. This is pear brandy. A personal favorite of mine, I admit. I hope you like it as much as I do."

"It's very good," Casta said, setting hers down and taking up a cheese-topped cracker. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have caught the fruit myself though."

"It is true that I try to take advantage of many disciplines, but I hardly qualify as a mage. I've learned enough to do a few parlor tricks, but I'm afraid my talents in that area would be woefully inadequate in any serious situation."

"So, what other talents do you have?" Quill asked, somewhat impressed.

"Well, I've begun investigating alchemy for example, since you asked. We've a quite accomplished alchemist in House Hlaalu, and he's shown me a few little potions that come in handy on occasion," Crassius said.

"Aphrodisiacs I presume? " Quill-Weave scowled.

"Ah, that is a given. I've found some quite effective ones in fact, though I find the best are similar to hypnosis in one way. They really don't directly cause sexual interest, so much as release the inhibitions. Frankly they're more akin to alcohol in their effects, but without the inebriating side-effects. If the subject is genuinely attracted to someone, that attraction will only manifest more easily. There are, indeed, combinations that will cause what you imagine a true aphrodisiac to do, but I find them distasteful. What is the point if the subject regrets his or her actions afterwards?"

"You're an interesting man, Mr. Curio," Quill said, taking another sip.

"I try to be," he smiled. "Take tonight's encounter for example. Had I any intent to woo our host Casta here, I might well have laced this brandy with the more direct substances to induce her willingness - nay, insistence - on such a liason. But that was not my intent."

Casta moved closer to their guest. "So what was your intent? You're a long way from home, just to visit another author."

"Not just another author, Casta. I find your books fascinating in fact. From a technical point of view, they are admittedly somewhat similar - yet you invariably find an unusual angle on each that keeps them fresh. I am, I fear, not nearly so creative. In fact, it appears my imagination has become somewhat stagnant of late. I came here to try to discover your secret, if such a thing exists. If not, at least to perhaps glean some understanding of what drives your talent."

"Well thank the gods for that," Quill laughed. "At least you didn't drug our brandy!"

"Didn't I?" Crassius smiled with one eyebrow raised.

Quill looked at her drink, as did Casta.

"But, you didn't put anything in it! I saw you open the bottle." Quill-Weave protested. "You poured all three drinks together."

"Ah. You assume I wouldn't apply the same tincture to my own drink. But what if the potion were, as I said, not one to cause sexual attraction, but just to cause lowered inhibition? Why should I not subject myself to the same potion? Surely you know by reading my books that I have very little inhibition to begin with. It would barely affect me."

Casta backed up almost imperceptibly.

"Oh relax, my dumpling, you've nothing to fear. I only want to talk about our common talent - storytelling. As for you, Quill-Weave, I'm afraid I have no idea how it would affect Argonians. From what I understand, you are quite resistant to most potions. I doubt it would so much as touch you."

"That's pretty low, don't you think? Drugging us without our permission?"

"Tell me, Quill-Weave..." Crassius began. "Did I force you to drink my brandy?"

"Well... no."

"And what effect do you suppose an alcoholic drink like this would promote? Why would we drink alcohol in a social situation to begin with? It's quite common - but why do we do it?"

"To... relax," Casta filled in for Quill.

"Yes. Exactly. So we can relate to one another without excessive reserve. But alcohol alone has such negative effects. The brain starts to fog, the speech slurs. Not to mention the hangover the next morning. Surely you would prefer to avoid that? This 'drug' as you put it carries none of that. It only reduces the social inhibitions that prevent true discourse."

Quill was unable to counter that argument. "Still... did you really?"

Casta interjected, "And don't call me dumpling!"

Crassius began to laugh heartily. "I beg your forgiveness, Casta. As for your question, Quill-Weave, perhaps. Perhaps not. Are you familiar with the concept of the placebo effect?"

"I've heard of it."

"In this situation, let's say I did not add any such potion to our brandy. Yet let's say you thought I did. Would you then, at the end of the evening place the responsibility for your actions on yourself, or on the potion? You see how just the thought of such a potion could loosen your inhibitions in-and-of itself? The placebo effect is, I assure you, quite powerful."

"You're not going to tell us, are you?" Casta said, hitting Crassius lightly on the shoulder.

"No. I'd not tell you. That would deny you a convenient scapegoat on the morrow."