Keep your back straight, Astarion, he repeated in his head, reaching up to adjust the mask over his face for the fifth time that night. It wasn't falling or anything, he just didn't know what to do with his hands otherwise. Cazador had sent him to this masquerade to pick up some more high quality prey but Astarion was having trouble spotting anyone that wouldn't be missed. His left hand was holding a glass of champagne, he'd been sipping at it to get rid of nerves but they were ever present.

"This is wretched," he grumbled, turning his head to look out at the balcony. No one had stepped outside all night, the only place where it was dark enough for him to actually snatch someone. It was too cold apparently. He wouldn't know, he'd been accustomed to cold since the first year of being a spawn. "Everyone here is more stuffy than Cazador and his ruffled sleeves." Astarion heard a giggle behind him and turned quickly, hoping he didn't just ruin his chances at stalking the party more. If he'd insulted the wrong person he might get thrown out.

He made eye contact with a rather nicely dressed person, also holding a drink in their hand and shyly smiling at him. Shy. Good. They seemed amused by his insults rather than offended, so he pulled his face into a smirk and offered a hand, "It seems you've overheard my thoughts, and that you share the sentiment." He took the stranger's hand in his and gently kissed their knuckles.

Oh they'd be wonderful prey for Cazador. He could tell just based on how they were looking at him, "I'm Astarion, here on behalf of a dear friend of mine," as if he'd ever call Cazador a friend, "might we take a walk together? I'm getting warm in here, and there's hardly any room to breathe with how big everyone's heads are."

Another laugh. Perfect. He offered his arm and tilted his head, "We're going to get along well, I hope. Ah- No need to tell me your name, I'll just call you..." Well damn he can't get attached, can he? think of something! "How about, Darling? Simple, yes?"