[ A trick of the light sharpens Astarion’s incisor to a fine point. There’s a strange sensation at his back, a disruption in the Weave that he’d think was a warning, if he were still Mystra’s chosen. He isn’t, so he ignores it.

For a brief moment, he wonders if this is a third trick — the fool, the flirt, the damsel — but Astarion’s voice has a different tenor from before. ]

I see. [ measured, his countenance set in careful neutrality. ] Then I hope you spend your time in Waterdeep doing whatever you please. [ and, in the spirit of honesty: ] Though I’d suggest not wasting a perfectly lovely evening on a lush, even if he is your date.