If it's a challenge, that is something Fenris can contend with far more easily. He closes his eyes again, but this time with more determination than wariness. His hands lose their gauntlets easily, and bare hands begin to trace Astarion's features.

"A mole," he says, thumb drifting over Astarion's side. The other hand roams up Astarion's arm. "A little scratch here, long-healed. Something hit you in Thedas."

If he's off, it's by quarter inches.