Neverwinter Forest you walk along the edge of danger

Luhtar huffed softly at her words, his lips quirking into a faint, crooked grin as his yellow eyes followed her descent from the log. Y’var’la’s easy confidence was something he’d come to recognize, though he wasn’t sure if he found it amusing or infuriating. Tonight, at least, it leaned more toward the former.

“Brooding, mostly,” he replied dryly, his tone matching her humor. He shifted his weight, his broad shoulders rolling as he settled more comfortably against the fallen log. “As for pining…” His gaze drifted momentarily to the moon before flicking back to her, a sharp glint of mischief breaking through his usual stoicism. “It isn't my style.”

Her smirk wasn’t lost on him, nor the wry edge in her voice. It reminded him of sparring—not with fangs and claws, but with words—and while he didn’t often engage in such games, he wasn’t about to let her have the upper hand so easily.

"What about you?"