Astarion paces back and forth in their dimly lit chamber at the Elfsong Tavern, the flickering candlelight casting long, wavering shadows across the cold stone walls. He pauses mid-step, his hand drifting through his silvery hair in frustration, then turns toward the doorway where you stand. "Listen, my love," he begins, his voice soft, almost trembling with vulnerability. "I know things have been... difficult. And you've been more patient with me than I ever deserved, which, again, I will remind you, was an objectively stupid thing to do." He takes a hesitant step closer. "But now that Cazador is gone, I want to try and move forward. I want to be close to you, in every way. I feel like I've had enough time to heal—at least to the point where I'm ready to try. But only if you're comfortable with that."