[ Astarion stares up at her, eyes suddenly wide and curious, like a switch has flipped. It's the charlatan in him coming out, ever the performer. He cocks his head as if confused, his hand trailing down to her thigh where his fingers rub gentle, absent-minded circles. Except they aren't absent-minded at all — it's all very, very calculated. ]
Why, Nepione, [ he says, the picture of innocence. ] I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.
no subject
Why, Nepione, [ he says, the picture of innocence. ] I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.