It's not quite flirtation. Ellis can recognize the shape of something behind that assertion, even with the distraction of Astarion's chin set just so against the muscle of his thigh.

He's quiet for a long moment. Letting the first flush of reaction settle, draw in a deep breath as he considers the question.

"I've lost the taste for it."

Honest, if lacking the fuller context.

"What was the worst evening you've had?"

Unfair. A deflection, preemptive, against what might come after his paltry explanation.