A/N: This fanfic is a bunch of drabbles/shorts about Jarlaxle and Artemis Entreri; either separately or together, as friends or possibly more. The chapters are disconnected unless implied otherwise.
I use the prompt word as a thing that will get me started with the writing and give me some sort of idea to work with. I'm not trying to stay true to the word during the actual writing process, so sometimes the result will have little to do with the word itself. Take the chapter names with a grain of salt.
Expect fluff and comedy, as those are my defaults. However, character studies, angst, and hurt/comfort are likely to make appearances too.
This fic has been betaed by the lovely Death-Scimitar, as well as equally amazing Product Of A Sick Society.
Without further ado, let us begin.
Jarlaxle sat down and stretched his back, relaxing in the comfortable little tavern he had found a few days ago. He had soon discovered the place was a convenient place to observe the people of the city in his spare time; the place had a particularly casual and inviting atmosphere that his skin colour didn't seem to instantly ruin for a change.
Two men in the neighbouring table were talking without seeming to care if someone could listen in on them, which of course prompted the drow to do just that. The conversation didn't seem to be about anything he needed to pay actual attention to, nor did anything else in the tavern seem to be of any importance today, so Jarlaxle decided it was a good time for some foreign language practice.
He discreetly slipped off his magical trinket that gave him a perfect understanding of the surface Common.
Listening carefully, and frowning slightly in concentration, he tried to follow the conversation. He found he could understand most of it, although it was proving difficult to keep up with the suddenly much more quick-paced speech. In reality the talking wasn't any faster than before, but he needed extra time to understand the words and piece together the full sentences in a completely different way. It left him lagging behind and missing things because of it. Not to mention the foreign words he plain didn't know in the first place making it needlessly difficult at times.
He was very happy he could cheat his way out of translating when it mattered most, but sometimes he genuinely felt the need to stop and practice his listening comprehension. Because one never knew.