Dhruv watched Ékhidna's companion excuse himself, expression friendly even as he swallowed the last bite of a rejected cookie. And yet his regard within that ever-young face was bottomless and unyielding. Ageless and unplumbed. It was closer to who he was than the affably beleaguered wayfarer he was so often considered. Not that it was an act, of course. His reality was just hopelessly over-complicated.
He straightened a little and failed to set the cookies aside while making a study of the Princess Royal. That faint smile loitered even if it sharpened a touch, an old warmth lingering despite his reception.
When Ékhidna asked if Ailuin had finally found him, or if he had found Ailuin, Dhruv did not blink. Nor did he miss a beat -- a step, the dance itself too old and too personal anymore for games -- and let a shrug roam out of his shoulders while he cast a glance towards the couple of the hour.
"That would depend on when he was looking," he offered truth as a quip.
The sight of his lovely watcher perhaps reminded him that he should improve his behavior for the court, regardless of what deeply private hopes were slowly crumbling. Now, a wry beat. Next, an impossibly elegant bowing of head and shoulders to Ékhidna. "Your grace. I hope you are well." Which could stand for itself, or as a polite exit route.
