[Oh, and something in the pit of his stomach flutters pleasantly. Suddenly he isn't so certain of where the world is taking him, but it isn't a worrying feeling. He trusts Astarion, after all, and whatever he asks of him, Fenris is certain, it won't be anything egregious.

Besides: he's never been a coward.]

If it were you at the helm? Yes . . . I think I would agree to most anything.

[He doesn't know what he's saying (he does know what he's saying, the wine making his tongue loose and his face flushed hot). He angles a little closer to Astarion, drawn in by the coy way he positions himself, all rapid movement and eager swoops.]

But only if you'll indulge me in return, once all this is said and done.