[ Elegant decor, enticing aromas, scantily-clad women. It's the sort of place Astarion would only have dreamed of going, back when he was just a lowly spawn curled up in some dark, dank corner of Cazador's palace. He drinks it all in like blood, basking in the creature comforts. After so long going without, he'll never tire of nice things.
He breezes right past mention of the auction, careful not to place them at the scene of the crime. Instead, he points at the woman, mouth quirked up in amusement. ]
Let me guess. Chrysanthemum?
[ She giggles fetchingly. "Jessamine, actually." ]
Jessamine! A lovely name for a lovely flower such as yourself, [ he says, laying the flattery on thick. After all, they—well, Iorveth—just paid Hyacinth a rather hefty sum for all of that wine. He wouldn't mind a discount in his future. ]
no subject
He breezes right past mention of the auction, careful not to place them at the scene of the crime. Instead, he points at the woman, mouth quirked up in amusement. ]
Let me guess. Chrysanthemum?
[ She giggles fetchingly. "Jessamine, actually." ]
Jessamine! A lovely name for a lovely flower such as yourself, [ he says, laying the flattery on thick. After all, they—well, Iorveth—just paid Hyacinth a rather hefty sum for all of that wine. He wouldn't mind a discount in his future. ]