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Summary
That is the real generosity at the heart of his offer, Astarion supposes. There is no expectation. He is free to let his mask slip, free to disengage without any dreadful, half-truth excuses when it does. He’s been given a willing body to taste at his leisure. Astarion may come, if he wishes to. Or he may not. A smile, a shrug, and no further justification needed on either side. All that matters is what he wants.
Ugh. He does hate that Gale is so thoughtful.
