The odd pauses, the barely-veiled threats, it's all odd, even under the fog of complacency the enchantment draws over his sharper instincts.

"Not everyone," he agrees, giving Tyki another grin, smarmy and wide. "But he doesn't need to need us. We're still his guests, aren't we?" And though it's been a struggle, he hasn't broken any of the Prince's rules ... not to general knowledge, anyway. Of course, it's perfectly likely that the Prince already knows they're not here to be good little house guests, but why bother with the farce of the ball and hosting them, then? Just to see them squirm before he twists the knife?

Come to think of it, that sounds exactly like the sort of thing a fae would do. Oh well. If the Prince really is dedicated to keeping up appearances indefinitely, no sense in not taking advantage of it while it lsts. He tilts his glass, watching the liquid move inside, then glances up at Tyki again.

"Thanks for the drink," he says. It's clearly meant to be a dismissal, though whether Tyki listens or not ... "If I see our host, I'll be sure to compliment him on the excellent service."