[Astarion's expression rises first. Uplifted by the warmer current of Fenris' sly comment, it's why he misses the subtlety of the rest:]

True, they breed like rats, but they die out just as quickly. A handful of decades and then— poof— [a flick of his fingers outwards, imitating the winking of a dying star. Distracted a moment later by the cup resting beside said hand. Hello, beautiful.]

We'll outlive the lot without breaking a seat— [Errh. Hold on. Words. He knows words.]

Sweat.

False gods and assassins included, provided we're together. Your ferocity and my boundless cleverness combined.