[ The corner of Dorian's mouth turns up at compliment -- so easy -- and he drags away his focus on Zevran's face to search for this pin, a zigzagging look downwards that follows the sweeps of dress to where it closes. So he only repositions himself to reach with better grace, tugging the pin loose, fingers articulate and deft despite the haziness of the wine glasses that have come before the one Zevran has taken hostage.
Rather than simply let the gown fall freely, Dorian ushers it back with his knuckles brushing down the hem, his hand dipping further to settle on the elf's cinched waist.
His teeth show white as he grins at the sight of the harness, the infrastructure of the ruse revealed. His chuckle is warm, slithering out between his teeth, and finally pushes himself up to sit. ] Now that, [ he says ] was never going to do.
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Rather than simply let the gown fall freely, Dorian ushers it back with his knuckles brushing down the hem, his hand dipping further to settle on the elf's cinched waist.
His teeth show white as he grins at the sight of the harness, the infrastructure of the ruse revealed. His chuckle is warm, slithering out between his teeth, and finally pushes himself up to sit. ] Now that, [ he says ] was never going to do.