"Names are burdensome things," Morgan told him, and the very tip of her tongue slipped between her lips and ran against his thumb. Morgan, who was fae (or close enough to fae for it to be an unimportant distinction), knew that names also carried a certain power. Not as much as some liked to think, but even in this day and age a name was not nothing.
Over his shoulder, through the crowd, Morgan spotted Merlin. She drew closer to the golden god, mouth at his ear. "Let's go and forget about small talk," she whispered, eyes on her compatriot of old. She gave the wizard a slow wink before turning her attention back to the god in hand.