[Good, and he feels no guilt about how pleased that makes him. Fenris knows the importance of missions like this, he truly does, and every single one counts if they're to oppose Corypheus— but he can't help the seething resentment that pulses its way through him each and every time. Resentment for Riftwatch and the assignments they so easily give Astarion; resentment for all the nobles in the room who have the nerve to laugh and dance and act as though they haven't a care in the world.

But here and now, his only focus is in front of him. His fingers make quick work of the foil and cork, casually pocketing both, before offering the bottle back to Astarion.]

You earned it. It's only fair you get the first sip.

[He shifts as he says it, leaning up against the wall and making himself a little more comfortable. Angled like this, he can keep one eye on the party just inside, golden light spilling out as music wafts through the air, and yet still keep Astarion in his sightline.]

If you weren't working tonight . . . would you want to be here?

Tell me the appeal.