Arvalyn tilted his head, a bit taken aback by Areya's response to his return. His mischievous grin softened into something warmer and more earnest. One thing he'd learnt as a courtesan that he'd never considered as a thief was that one never knew where another person was in their life. Sometimes the burliest brawler would get behind the curtain and just want to be held. Sometimes the most fragile waif wanted to be made to feel like a bruiser. And sometimes the badass bouncer in the alleyway was a stranger to gratitude.
"Well, now you've had some stale wine to boot." Arvalyn offered with a cordial chuckle. He glanced again to her bracers, and considered this new nugget of information.
"Do they make allowances for assaulting people in the line of duty, or were you bluffing back in the alley when you terrified Hannik into kissing my foot?" He sounded more impressed than critical of the notion that she might have been more bark than bite back there. It had been effective, after all. Arvalyn certainly wouldn't want to cross her, bracers or not.
He grinned, nodding.
"Next time I'll get a pitcher." He said, craning his head to peer into what few droplets remained in his cup. He lifted his gaze back to Areya's and he laughed a bit.
"Oh all manner of things, really. Mostly sex, of course. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks there, but you know, courtesans are there for people who want to make some kind of connection. Sometimes that means a fuck, but it can also be a conversation. I've been a confidante for quite a few people who'd done wrongs or had wrongs done unto them. I've danced with people who were too shy to move to the music in the midst of a crowd. I regularly need to moisturise my shoulders for all the salty tears that regularly drench them, and um.. What is it that a Dead Legionnaire occupies their time with when they aren't filling in for flux-afflicted bouncers?"
