[He is a master class in subterfuge right now, especially drunk. Besotted creature prone to puppy eyes when conversation wanders— and who bites his lip as Astarion pulls him in closer, playing utterly unfairly with that grip.]
Er— no, I think not. I, I would not dare to try and step into your— your purview.
[Is that a sentence? Is that how words work? Hang on—]
This is your field— arena— thing, not mine. You do it far better. I'm content to merely listen.
[There we go, that's much more coherent, and also neatly not untrue. The fact that he's a little flustered and knows for a fact he'll sound like an idiot if he tries to say these things is secondary.
(Listen: he loves flirting with Astarion, murmuring filth in his ear or whispering romantic adoration against his moonlit skin— but it's one thing for him to say it in the heat of the moment. Another thing to try and perform.]
no subject
Er— no, I think not. I, I would not dare to try and step into your— your purview.
[Is that a sentence? Is that how words work? Hang on—]
This is your field— arena— thing, not mine. You do it far better. I'm content to merely listen.
[There we go, that's much more coherent, and also neatly not untrue. The fact that he's a little flustered and knows for a fact he'll sound like an idiot if he tries to say these things is secondary.
(Listen: he loves flirting with Astarion, murmuring filth in his ear or whispering romantic adoration against his moonlit skin— but it's one thing for him to say it in the heat of the moment. Another thing to try and perform.]