[Oh, and it's the sweetest kind of surprise to realize Astarion knows what his name means. Not due to the meaning itself (a moniker that Fenris embraces and resents all at once, just like his lyrium), but the thoughtfulness therein. He thinks about me when I'm not near, and it's one thing to know it vaguely. Quite another to have it confirmed.]

Is it even long enough for that?

[Internally, he scowls at himself. There were so many sweeter ways to engage with that, and instead he bluntly offered the first thought that came to mind. It isn't unsalvageable, but Maker's breath. . . and he doesn't know what to say, now. Thank you sounds silly, but I'm actually enjoying this, I just don't always know how to simmer for it is embarrassing.

Hmm. A beat, and then, internally cringing just a little, adds:]

I have no doubt you will succeed, with or without my squirming.

[Ugh. Anyway: he settles. Commits himself to sitting up straight and still, staring with curiosity in the mirror as pale fingers cleverly work.]

I did not know you had an interest in etymology. Or is the name Fenris another thing that spans worlds?