This was someone new. Zevran blinked at her approach, attempting to place her for this level of familiarity spoke of either knowing him or bedding him at least once before- but he cannot recall her face, nor her voice, nor the shape of her hands and those are things he recalled ever and always of those that he took to his bed, or at least wished to take to his bed.

Without a name to put to the face or a memory to put to the voice, he simply let her speak.

Let her flirt- or at least attempt to flirt.

He was fairly certain it was an attempt to flirt. Someone truly needed to speak to the Wardens on how it was they do so- with the infertility and resistance to disease? one would think they'd take better advantage of it and learn to be charming. Not that she wasn't. He leaned back in his chair, head tipped to the side, smirk curling at his lips. "The stitching does seem familiar to me, yes."

Grapevines were a familiar motif, he traced the embroidery with a light fond hand. "And what, dare I ask, has Bethany chosen to get me?"