I have. All kind of stories, ranging from the fantastical to the decidedly idiotic.

[He closes the door gently behind him and crosses the room, taking a seat behind Astarion. Seemingly unthinkingly, he reaches for a brush and begins combing at a low set of unruly curls. The motions are steady and soothing, a familiar ritual— though one easily shaken off if Astarion loathes it.]

But I want to hear it from the only one whose take on it actually matters.