Fenris, stuck with his own thoughts, has had enough time to cool. He nods, setting his things aside, and begins taking off his excess armor. "That you can manage rooms at inns like this still amazes me. When I was on the run, I slept in trees."

A pale compliment, and Fenris feels rather wan himself. He finds the excess bedding and all but collapses into it.

"I was a snarling wolf today, snapping at your heels," he says, looking up at Astarion. He is not kneeling. This vantage is just comfortingly familiar. "Can you forgive me?"