[ The truth is that Astarion isn't the most open-minded man — he's quick to judge others and he's never held much regard for the more vertically challenged races present in Faerûn — but in this matter, and matters of personal freedom, he doesn't feel any doubt. It's there in the way he looks at Koby — direct, certain, empathetic. He diverts his attention only to offer Koby a reprieve, picking the sweater up from its place on the bed and holding it up as though to envision Koby wearing it.

As he does: ] You can't live half a life, not forever.

[ Half a life, lived under another's thumb. More than once, he's wondered if he'd recognize the face staring back at him if he could see himself in the mirror, not just for how long it's been but because he's led an existence that left any personal will or desire out of the question. ]

But you're not alone, in the grand scope of the world. Or worlds, rather. Not just when it comes to people who'd understand, but those who've been in your shoes.

[ He hesitates, then, setting the sweater carefully back down in its former place. ]

I'm happy for you. That you seem to have companions who love you as you are.