[He doesn't want to laugh at that, you know. It's far, far too easy a joke, and more than that, too rewarding: if he lets Bastien in on just how little it takes to make Astarion snort in earnest, he'll never—

Oh. No. Wait.

He already knows that.

(And besides, Astarion actually is laughing already, so.)]

Right, that's it. I've had all the talk of love and happiness I can stomach. Go on. Shoo.

Get out of here, and go back to winding yourself around the man tighter than his own belt.

[It's warm, for the record, his tone. And don't you dare bring it up.]