[It does hurt to hear, in ways he often wouldn't care to admit -- his eyes squeeze shut for several moments, head bowed, posture not exactly stiff but still unmoving. Gloved fingers lace together where his arms are propped on his knees; it's been some time, probably, since Astarion last saw him wear them around him, but he can almost certainly identify them as what they are. A small sort of protection, just to feel that much less exposed in all this, given that it's been more or less what he anticipated.]
Do not flatter yourself overmuch, [he says in response to that last comment, his tone dry. But before he says more, there's another pause.]
It has been the same for me. You, more than any other, have understood what I have given you of myself, even if you did not yet understand reaching for what was lost. I told you once that I had no interest in anyone else, and whether I knew it yet or not, I meant more than simply the physical.
... But I could not tell, until very recently, whether I had lost yours or whether it was simply a consequence of being trapped here.
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Do not flatter yourself overmuch, [he says in response to that last comment, his tone dry. But before he says more, there's another pause.]
It has been the same for me. You, more than any other, have understood what I have given you of myself, even if you did not yet understand reaching for what was lost. I told you once that I had no interest in anyone else, and whether I knew it yet or not, I meant more than simply the physical.
... But I could not tell, until very recently, whether I had lost yours or whether it was simply a consequence of being trapped here.