[If anyone had asked Gale twenty-four hours prior how he felt about Astarion, he'd have been utterly conflicted and struggled to give a concise answer. Now, he'd still struggle to be concise, as his slightly drunken rambling exemplified perfectly, but at least he understands that longing that has been welling in his chest since their first kiss. He knew it was silly to think anything more of it than a passing fancy, more embarrassed about his fixation on it than the fact it happened at all, but...
Well, maybe he'd have regretted it if things turned out differently, but as Astarion kisses his hand, it's hard to argue with that fluttering in his chest.]
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Well, maybe he'd have regretted it if things turned out differently, but as Astarion kisses his hand, it's hard to argue with that fluttering in his chest.]
So long as you like me more than Shale.