[ Astarion, keen as he is on reading prey, catches the flicker in his eyes that says this gentleman is also trespassing. Noble lineages are as sprawling as their estates, so it's entirely possible he's related to someone-or-other in the Melshimber family, but Astarion watched his invite being introduced to their gracious hosts beside one of the fountains. They were both human, older, but look nothing like the man in front of him. Which means Astarion is probably safe from being immediately escorted off the premises.
An adjustment of tactics is easy enough. Entirely possible this man won't be interested - because for all of Astarion's charms, they aren't always womanly enough for some tastes - but if he won't bat an eye at Astarion casing the house, that will also work just fine.
He is handsome, though. Astarion does manage to hold his gaze a moment longer than most men who aren't of their persuasion, and he turns a keen eye to his discarded cufflinks and jacket. Were they in Baldur's Gate, Astarion might recognize the house, but as it stands all he can smell is wealth. Might be worth swiping the cufflinks before he leaves the room. ]
Ah. I see we've both been caught somewhere we're not supposed to be. [ Astarion's body language shifts as he nudges the door quietly shut with his hip, offering a conspiratorial smile rather than a hapless one. ] I found myself in need of some fresh air from the...well, fresh air. [ He flutters a hand as he sheds his outer jacket as if he were over-warm here, with the fire going: black as pitch with gold embroidery and buttons, the inner lining one of soft white fur.
His shirt ties at his neck, with ruffled collar and billowing sleeves, but the black silk is sheer, revealing plenty for those who wish to look. Astarion strides properly into the room, drapes his jacket over the back of a plush chaise and tips his head toward the shelves that surround them, indicating the books are also what he's here for. Which isn't entirely a lie. ]
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An adjustment of tactics is easy enough. Entirely possible this man won't be interested - because for all of Astarion's charms, they aren't always womanly enough for some tastes - but if he won't bat an eye at Astarion casing the house, that will also work just fine.
He is handsome, though. Astarion does manage to hold his gaze a moment longer than most men who aren't of their persuasion, and he turns a keen eye to his discarded cufflinks and jacket. Were they in Baldur's Gate, Astarion might recognize the house, but as it stands all he can smell is wealth. Might be worth swiping the cufflinks before he leaves the room. ]
Ah. I see we've both been caught somewhere we're not supposed to be. [ Astarion's body language shifts as he nudges the door quietly shut with his hip, offering a conspiratorial smile rather than a hapless one. ] I found myself in need of some fresh air from the...well, fresh air. [ He flutters a hand as he sheds his outer jacket as if he were over-warm here, with the fire going: black as pitch with gold embroidery and buttons, the inner lining one of soft white fur.
His shirt ties at his neck, with ruffled collar and billowing sleeves, but the black silk is sheer, revealing plenty for those who wish to look. Astarion strides properly into the room, drapes his jacket over the back of a plush chaise and tips his head toward the shelves that surround them, indicating the books are also what he's here for. Which isn't entirely a lie. ]
Shall we be naughty in companionable quiet, then?