[Numbers are so much teasier than letters, and oh, that price is rather high, all things considering. Dark eyebrows raise as his eyes flick down, trying to compare it to the other prices, but ah: that's a bit too difficult.]

And you're certain no one will miss this?

[Said with all the dubious air of someone searching for the catch. Nothing ever comes for free, and surely there has to be a point where Zevlor's patience runs out.

On the other hand . . . it's not as if he's the one stealing it. He won't abandon Astarion if they get caught, but the ire certainly won't be wholly directed his way. And he's curious now, hesitance or not. It sounds exotic, or at the very least fancy, and when else will he ever be able to try it? Fenris grabs the edge of the bar and yanks himself forward, scooting boy and stool all at once so he can crowd in.]

Give it to me. You're pretty weak, you are not going to be able to get that cork off.

[Not an insult, or at least not really intended as one. Just the blunt utterances of a child. Above them, the song winds down. Zevlor's even tone rings through the air, offering indistinct corrections. Of course she missed the last shift, she's too busy sucking on Mallius' tongue all day, Etudíe drawls, and oh, there starts up the bickering again.]

Now what are they fighting about?

[He's getting better at learning names and faces, but that's a very different beast than understanding all the drama and details that come with each performer. Everyone's slept with someone, or has some grudge, or has a soft spot, or resents someone because they got a favored role . . . it seems exhausting to Fenris, in truth. But he likes hearing about it secondhand. Astarion is a good storyteller, and seems to have a knack for knowing all the dirty details. Being friends with him has been quite the education.]