“The dead always pose a threat.” Being undead— or formerly so— Astarion likes to imagine he’s uniquely qualified to attest to that truth more than most. His exhale is thin, his dagger (wrist still held fast) tips away in a show of acquiescence.

What Emet-Selch desires, he can have.

For now.

“Play in this last, lingering fantasy if you want, fine. But don’t expect me not to bare my teeth when it tries to cling.”