[He listens. For so long, and so attentively, that he's sure no one who knew him would recognize him in those fleeting moments whilst his newfound fascination sits there speaking. Where even the fractured gaps between conscious and subconscious seem to echo as they hang on every word, repeating them again and again.

And then, at the end—

He laughs.]

Be still my—

[ah] beating heart. [Hm. Such a novel thing to say, now that it's true (tugging on his tattered blouse comes with less fascination). Those gold-green eyes don't look away; neither do Astarion's. Couldn't help it if he tried.]

I suppose we'll need to take tally if we make it to that city of yours in one piece. With the winner spared paying for drinks for an entire night.