[Astarion doesn't miss that frustration and disappointment, perhaps because he's looking for it, perhaps because he feels it echoed in himself as soon as the disgust has given way. He ducks his head again, looking away to his own lack of reflection in the water, in the gloss of the tiles around them.]

You did say that, didn't you? You're a man of your word.

[His brows pinch together, a scowl over his face as his free hand sweeps across the water in a cutting gesture.]

And what am I? A man who can't perform the only thing I've ever been good at when it's all I want.