[He watches Astarion knock his head with no small measure of satisfaction, his frown evolved into a proper scowl. He doesn't know why they're fighting, only that they are— and much like in childhood, there comes a point where it's all reactionary.]

Listen to what? Last I heard, you couldn't even come up a compliment without stalling— or was I supposed to be impressed by something that half-assed?

[He doesn't get up, if only because getting up would mean crowding in Astarion's space, and that's the last thing he wants right now. But his hands are cold, and his lap feels empty where strong thighs had nestled not a moment before. His lips are aching and he doesn't understand what happened— only that it had to do with Elise, and kissing, and—]

What's your problem? You were the one who asked me to teach you! You can't be upset that I'm better at it!