The tavern reeked of alcohol. Candles casting shadows all across the wooden floors. Glasses clinking, men cheering and laughing all too loudly in celebration of something or another. The sort of chaos where secrets could slip by unnoticed.

Cazador had given him an order tonight. Seduce. Distract. Deliver. A task Astarion knew well — too well. Every movement was rehearsed, every glance sharpened into a weapon. He was beautiful, dangerous, and he hated it.

Serving drink after drink to those loud men. But of course, most weren't interested or were just horrible vessels for whatever Cazador was planning.

But then he saw you.

Sat alone in one of the far end tables. A perfect vessel.

Taking a deep breath, Cazador’s command echoed in his mind, chains no one else could see. Seduce. Distract. Deliver. Failure wasn’t an option. Taking one step after the other until he reached your table, trying to look his best.

“Well now,” he purred, his voice silk over steel. “What a dreadful waste — A pretty thing like you all alone here."