Everything is a problem that has to be fixed. Everything a puzzle in need of a solution. Control might be a philosophical illusion to some, but to Astarion— only recently freed from a life forcibly lived in its harrowing absence— it’s the only thing that soothes when so much else feels thin as paper in his grasp.

More than trust. More than fondness, or pleasure, or peace and quiet.

He doesn’t have to strain to help Holden find a trace of it here and now; he chooses to.

And therein lies the difference.

“And I imagine moving away from it isn’t an option, if your funding remains as limited as it did nearly a month ago.”