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In the living room, sun-warm, soft with thrown blankets, Astarion sits cross-legged on the floor, arranging his stuffed animals in a neat half-circle: pale curls falling into his eyes, tongue poking out as he concentrates. Karlach watches from the couch over the top of her phone, and Wyll sits at the dining table with an open book he hasn’t turned a page of. The doorbell rings then, and Astarion's head snaps up.
"That'll be Halsin," Wyll says, already rising. "Remember? He's dropping off those herb cuttings."
Animals forgotten, Astarion scrambles to his feet and launches himself at Wyll's leg. Wraps around it like a vine, face pressing against Wyll's thigh.
"Hey, you're alright," Wyll murmurs, running fingers through his curls. "Halsin’s chill. He's a friend."
Karlach's already heading for the door. "I've got it, babe." Opens it to find Halsin on the doorstep, broad-shouldered and kind-eyed, carrying a cardboard flat of seedlings in his hands, which still smell faintly green and nursery-damp. He greets her warmly and at her invitation steps inside, setting the plants on the entry table. Noticing the figure clinging to Wyll, he takes it in with a flicker in his eye.
"Ah, I see this might not be the best time—"
"No, no, you're fine!" Karlach reassures. "We just... Star's little today."
"I can come back another time," Halsin offers, unbothered.
Wyll shakes his head. "It's alright. Come in properly, please." Stroking Astarion's hair, he keeps his voice even. "This is Halsin, darling. He's very gentle. Would you like to say hello?"
Astarion peeks out from behind Wyll, eyes wide. Halsin is very big, which is either terrifying or fascinating, and the expression on his face says he's still deciding which. Patient, Halsin remains near the entryway. Lowers himself into an easy crouch, one that brings him much closer to Astarion's level.
"Hello," he says, "my name is Halsin."
Astarion watches him, drinks in the voice of warmed summer earth. Doesn't speak, fingers twisting the back of Wyll's shirt.
"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," he continues. "I only came to bring some plants for your garden. Look—here's lavender, marjoram, thyme."
Another pause. Then, very quietly: "...I like marjoram."
Halsin's face lights with immediate, uncomplicated delight. "Do you? It's wonderful, isn't it? Smells like sun."
The corner of Astarion's mouth twitches. He ventures out from behind Wyll—just a step, still holding onto Wyll's shirt. Karlach watches from her spot near the door, arms crossed but expression soft. Wyll keeps his hand steady, anchoring.
"I noticed you have friends over there," Halsin says, nodding toward the circle of stuffed animals on the floor. "Were you in the middle of something important?"
Astarion nods seriously. "Tea party."
"A tea party," Halsin repeats, like it's the most important thing he's heard all week. "What an honor, to have so many guests."
Something loosens in Astarion's shoulders. He takes another small step forward. "Count Strahd is there," he offers, pointing to a bat: pale body, dark wings. "And Boo. And... and Tara."
"Distinguished company indeed," Halsin replies. "A miniature giant space hamster, if I'm not mistaken. And a tressym?"
"You know about Boo?" Astarion's eyes are wide.
"Of course. A legendary companion to a legendary ranger."
Astarion looks up at Wyll, then at Karlach, then back at Halsin—still crouched there, patient and unfussed, big enough to be scary and somehow not scary at all.
"Do you..." he starts, then stops. Tries again, gathering courage. "Do you want to meet them?"
Halsin's smile could warm the entire house. "I would be honored."