[Gale's fingers curl as Astarion pulls away from him, but the grip on his wrist tells him all he needs to know. A series of raw emotions flit across his face: confusion, a hint of frustration, disappointment, but ultimately - acceptance.
He places his other hand on the one that grips his wrist.]
It's all right. I promised you, remember? That if we needed to stop, we would.
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He places his other hand on the one that grips his wrist.]
It's all right. I promised you, remember? That if we needed to stop, we would.