Instinct momentarily overrides the specifics of this exercise. Ellis meets his attacker with a fist to the jaw before he recalls that he's meant to be bait.

It does buy him some time regardless, sending his assailant staggering a few steps backwards. Any other denizens of Darktown have fled. Even the hollow-faced third party to their attackers is wavering a few farther steps away. If Ellis has judged him correctly, he's waiting to see which way the fight tips.

There's a splattering of blood across pavement, a mark of Astarion's handiwork, but the unfortunate, now-leaking individual is still upright.

"Mind your right," he calls to Astarion, weaving backwards in anticipation of a second attempt by the third, burly attacker. His jaw is swelling, and Ellis is unarmed, unarmored, and the responsible party. Unlikely he shifts his attention to a more challenging target.