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Summary
“Godsdammit, Astarion,” Wyll ground out, breathing hard. His hands shook as he sheathed his rapier, missing on the first go. “You can’t sneak up on me like that. I could’ve killed you.”
Astarion sputtered indignantly. It would’ve taken more than some piddly little spell to do him in, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t have hurt like a bitch in the meantime. “I know you’re just itching to stick your blade in a proper monster,” he sneered, adjusting the ruffles of his shirt, “but could you do us all the favour of saving it for the goblins?”
After his encounter with Mizora, Wyll tries to clear his head. Unfortunately for him, Astarion is out on the prowl.