His slighter bow is met by Astarion’s own significantly deeper one— head canting just so, arm extended in a pristine arc. This was, after all, a game between them; Astarion’s more than content to lean into it, even after Emet-Selch pulls away.

After he does the same in turn, cutting effortlessly across the dance floor to disappear into the crowd.

The night is young, after all.