What the pencil traces

[“Capture my best angle, will you?” Astarion asked and stroke a pose, showing all his petty vanity, lips delightfully curved upward in a playful smile.“All your angles are your best angles” Elas replied mindlessly, whispering, gaze still focused on the drawing in front of him. The high elf couldn’t help but smile, delighted.“Really? Anything in particular that you like?”Elas stopped the tracing of his pencil and looked up to Astarion’s face.“Many things” he muttered. “You have...” He rested his chin onto his hand, eyes focused on the pale elf, thinking. “These strong, piercing eyes.”“Oh, go on...”Elas smiled. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”“Very.” He spoke, as his face moved closer to Elas’.]As Astarion cannot see his own reflection, Elas has an idea: drawing a portrait of him.