This time, Astarion's hum is thoughtful, head drifting nearer to Emet-Selch's shoulder as he shifts his footing, gaze slinking away elsewhere.

"And here I'd never fancied myself a masochist before now. Clearly the evidence speaks for itself."

He's still here, after all.

"Anyway, you can't do worse for the place than half the people already here. You'd think Hightown would manage to...oh, I don't know, draw out the high in its populace, but no. Shows me."