This time, Astarion listens. Though he’s close to biting, though he’s seething with possessive irritation, the back and forth isn’t something he can overlook.

Because real or not, Emet-Selch is reacting to it.

And if there’s something to be understood here, if there’s a thorn lodged deep in Emet-Selch’s paw, then Astarion wants to know exactly what it is.

And how deep it runs.