[Without thinking, Astarion grabs at Gale's wrist as soon as he takes the flower. His grip is tight, a faint tremor in his hand as he leans in, his voice lowered to a whisper.]
You asked? Why in the hells would you—[He catches himself, his thoughts moving faster than his words, biting off the accusation with a low, insistent plea.]—what did she say?
no subject
You asked? Why in the hells would you—[He catches himself, his thoughts moving faster than his words, biting off the accusation with a low, insistent plea.]—what did she say?