[His desire is a bitten tongue and an even broader grin— not Fenris', his own— because he'd been more than ready to beg, petition or steal his way into having such a handsome creature in his arms where everyone might pay witness, dancing as though they belong and aren't somehow sullying the landscape with their very pointy ears. He'd wanted to ask for the same thing, in other words, and instead walked facefirst into his own aspirations.

The borders of his ears are burning, though he shows nothing of his hand elsewise when Fenris stands so close. Like a practiced poker player, he knows better than to let true feelings enter into this, lest he lean too hard, want too much— turn their playful banter into the forthright transcipt of his desires and send the only elf that matters slinking back towards their room in want of distance. So there's an art to the way he lays his focus: sets his profile to the side whilst lifting the level of his gaze, smeared kohl glittering in faint slivers of caught light.]

Nothing that isn't iniquitous by design.

[A fair way to save grace when one's only other real response would be to answer 'same', with the height of all those wasted charms. Grant him some credit, he has more decorum than that.]

So I'll settle for your suggestion, and think it fair pay for my conjecture. [His hand moves like a snake's coils just to fit between them where there's little room, extended in genteel offering.]

....shall we?