"Good. I would hate to think you unaware of your loveliness-" There's more or there would be more, but he's busy finishing his cordial and therefore unaware and unprepared for the assault of chaste sweetness thrust in his direction.

It's so light a thing, the barest brush, and Zevran's cackle twists into a low huff instead. Warmer, more intimate, inviting.

Honest.

"Ah, that is payment enough for several daring acts of heroism, I should think." He reaches up, brushing his own cheek, eyes closed in feigned bliss.