[Oh, any mourning for the loss of the moment must be immediately postponed. The sight of the rope and collar brings a sharp grin to Astarion's lips. He hasn't forgotten that request, no. It's merely been tucked away, awaiting the right moment. And he sees absolutely no reason why this should not be that moment. He takes the collar, running his fingers along the length of the supple leather, a hungry light shining in his eyes.]

Oh, I shall keep you. Nothing could take you from me.

[Carefully, he tilts Gale's chin up, stroking his neck before he slides the collar around it. He keeps two fingers hooked between the leather and Gale's pulse, making sure he doesn't cut off his air as he fastens it. Once it's secure, those two fingers tug Gale closer, Astarion turning his face to whisper in his ear.]

Now, pet. You had promised me a delicate and intimate touch. Shall we return to that?