[ It's for the best, really, that Rand takes it as a joke β Astarion wouldn't know what to do if he took it seriously beyond attempting to play it off. But whatever display of earnestness he's freed from as such is brought back into play by the offer that follows.
Granted, the feeling it sparks is not dissimilar to the way in which he's thrown off by almost every answer Rand gives him. To agree to one bite had already been quite the shock (not to mention the revelation that had followed on its heels), but to offer himself up as a meal in relative perpetuityβ
The look on Astarion's face is not unlike the expression Rand had worn just moments previously; awe, in some measure, though filtered into something more like uncertainty on the more permanently skeptical canvas of Astarion's face. He's not about to refuse the offer β the assumption that people aren't exactly falling over themselves to give blood, as it were, is true, complicated by the status of vampires and their spawn as monsters β but he also doesn't quite know how to accept it.
He settles on a breath of laughter, the sound carrying something life as he flops onto his back in the shade. ]
Careful, petal, else I'll drink you dry.
[ Of course, it's a jest β as much as it's within his control, he's not trying to repay kindness with exsanguination β but it's the only way he knows how to respond other than to be honest, which is a horrible prospect. Still, he swallows his pride, if only because Rand isβ well, Rand.
With each word measured: ] But ... thank you. Iβ I don't take such a thing for granted.
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Granted, the feeling it sparks is not dissimilar to the way in which he's thrown off by almost every answer Rand gives him. To agree to one bite had already been quite the shock (not to mention the revelation that had followed on its heels), but to offer himself up as a meal in relative perpetuityβ
The look on Astarion's face is not unlike the expression Rand had worn just moments previously; awe, in some measure, though filtered into something more like uncertainty on the more permanently skeptical canvas of Astarion's face. He's not about to refuse the offer β the assumption that people aren't exactly falling over themselves to give blood, as it were, is true, complicated by the status of vampires and their spawn as monsters β but he also doesn't quite know how to accept it.
He settles on a breath of laughter, the sound carrying something life as he flops onto his back in the shade. ]
Careful, petal, else I'll drink you dry.
[ Of course, it's a jest β as much as it's within his control, he's not trying to repay kindness with exsanguination β but it's the only way he knows how to respond other than to be honest, which is a horrible prospect. Still, he swallows his pride, if only because Rand isβ well, Rand.
With each word measured: ] But ... thank you. Iβ I don't take such a thing for granted.