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"You're a sweetheart," Astarion says, and then smiles sidelong at him. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
He gently tugs at his hair again. "Guess I should get out of your way, though."
Astarion doesn't affect relief, but he feels it. The temptation to ask him to sleep here - when he's feeling fatigued, sick, vulnerable - is immense, and if Jacob had asked to stay he's not sure he would have been able to throw him out. If he's excusing himself, though? It's easy to just agree.
"I'll see you again when I'm feeling better, darling."
He slips out of bed and places a hand on his chest again. He isn't waiting a full fucking week for him to feel better, though.
"I'll come check on you before then," he promises.
"Well. If you insist," Astarion says, with a smile, and then sits up to catch his hand and brush his lips over his knuckles. "Sweet dreams."
Vampires don't get sick, darling. That being said, right now I feel so nauseous that I don't know I'd even be able to feed.
No - no, I could go years without, if I had to. I'll be fine for a week while this runs its course.
When you wake up from dying, let me know. Here if you need a hand.
"...thank you," Astarion says, lightly touching the back of his hand - time will tell what exactly it is he's thanking him for. "It'll have to wait until I can stand up without feeling dizzy, of course, but then..."
Then Thrawn can really understand the death toll.
That's sweet of you, but I have the coffin of dirt from my homeland and a sacrificial virgin on hand already.
[Wait, he might not get that the coffin thing is also a joke.]
Which is to say that I'm fine. Thank you, darling.
"Astarion?" Instead she searches him out. "I heard what happened. Are you alright?"
No, stop, she's learned that lesson with him already: "You're not alright."
The cabin has an 'expensive but soulless pre-furnished apartment' look to it, save: the curtains (badly torn, neatly mended), the sewing machine and ongoing projects on a desk in one corner, and the weapons hanging from one wall.
"The death toll is rather wretched, as you'll be aware.I'm just looking forward to giving our new shipmate a more personal way to experience it."
Next time I'll be sure get the blood orgy squared off for you, though. Promise.
She drifts over, glancing at the cat but ultimately looking him over.
"Was it really like he said?"
"In what sense? He was able to sneak up on me, if that's what you mean. Not my finest moment."
Honestly, it's embarrassing, but - well, a lesson learned. He's getting sloppy and he can't afford to.
"He just decided to, out of nowhere?"
"Oh yes. We'd never talked, I'd never even seen him, I was merely his target of choice."
Asshole psychopath things indeed. Astarion isn't the most discerning killer, but he tends not to murder people just to test how easily or reversibly they die.
"It occurred to me he'd learn more about it by going through a death toll himself," is where she's arrived at, honestly.
"Oh, he's probably already factored into his plans that I'll be returning the favour," Astarion says, rolling his eyes. "Now that he's confirmed his death won't stick."
Ha. You're a sweetheart.
How are you settling in?
"You didn't want an apology."
Astarion scoffs.
"I don't think he's sorry and I wouldn't forgive him regardless. We can level the field, and then we can move on."
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