[ Astarion wonders if the scars have softened Gale toward him, and whether pity has anything to do with it. He can be shameless about charity, but pity is something else. It makes him feel powerless, still; like Cazador still has him tethered, can snap him back to Baldur's Gate with nothing but a word.

It is entirely possible the scars bind him enough to do just that.

He's troubled by the thought, and doesn't manage to keep it off his face. Astarion pulls himself from the bath and reaches for a soft towel. He's never had luxuries like these, and it feels like they could be snatched from him at any moment. ]

I... do need time to think. [ He rubs at the curls at the nape of his neck, the only section of hair that clings with dampness to his skin. ] But thank you. For the drawing and - the kindness.

[ At the mention of midnight, he looks out the window again, sighing. ] We will need to head to your tower before dawn, I'm afraid. Unless you'd like to extend our stay until sundown tomorrow.