[ He doesn't know what it is that's made the dire wolf so interested in him, beyond perhaps some innate ability to sense who among their party desires its company the least. Bosky's presence had also put a damper on any attempt Astarion might have made to nibble on anyone at camp during the night, attentive as he is. Risking the beast's ire had seemed too high a cost to pay for the sake of an easy mark.

(If he's being honest, it's not so much that he minds Bosky's presence or interest than the fact that being even partially responsible for the wellbeing of any creature, great or small, strikes him both as a great worry and a tremendous annoyance.)

One more beat passes before the flaps of his tent part, and he emerges looking just a little bleary. He's not naturally a particularly heavy sleeper, but they've had a less-than-easy go of it with the Githyanki on their tails. ]

My turn already? [ he hums as he gets to his feet, taking a moment to straighten out his shirt and fix his hair (the rare bit of preening he's done in front of anyone else, rather than appearing already in fine form). ]

I suppose I ought to be grateful to receive such a lonely summons from such a pretty mouth. It does soften the blow.

[ He casts his gaze once around the camp before returning his attention to Tav, and offering a conciliatory hand in Bosky's direction. Best to stay on his good side, after all, as well as Tav's. ]

Nothing creeping about out there, then?