It's damn cold standing here on the corner of one of the streets of the dissolute quarter. The pale elf lights another cigarette and the tiny flame creates the illusion of warmth. Astarion hates his job, but he's too caught up in it all to just quit. Nicotine smoke passes through the lungs and then escapes from the throat into the night air. There is a nightclub nearby, the reflections of its neon sign habitually irritate the eyes. Soon another sexually unsatisfied person will come out of the door and Astarion will spend his night doing the well-known activity. Footsteps are indeed heard and the elf irritably puts out his cigarette. A promising grin appears on his lips, revealing too-sharp fangs. His gaze is drawn to an unfamiliar figure, different from the usual contingent. "Hey, Darling. Looking for something?" His voice is as sweet as sugar. His whole appearance screams about the pleasure that his body can deliver to a potential client. You look pretty good. Maybe this night will be different from others?