[ Astarion very graciously does not contort his features into an exaggerated expression of shock at Gale's admission that he's made a good point, instead nodding his head just the once as straightens up, tucking in the bandage's loose end and placing it on the seat next to the wizard. ]

Any landmark we so please; the second floor, at the far end of the east wing.

[ A garbled sentence in any other context, but an answer, here, spoken as he shifts his weight to his back foot and crosses his arms over his chest. ]

It'll allow for a little variation, in case the repetition causes any suspicion.

[ He frowns slightly even as he speaks the words aloud, as if worried he's sounding too paranoid. (Like he cares too much, one might have said, but he's not the same vampire who'd been carefully feigning helplessness by the wreckage of the Nautiloid.) But it's ultimately warranted, he thinks — everything about this place, even without Tilanus and Orin's respective presences, seems designed to lull them into a false sense of security, only to spring some terrible trap once their guards are down.

(A thought springs to mind, an invisible blade in his own ribs: Could he have prevented this from happening? Was there something he could have done to better prepare Gale for this place? That he wonders it at all is progress, considering its inevitable conclusion, strangely fond: No, it was the wizard's own damn fault.) ]

Are you fit to walk? [ One presumes he'd walked his way to the infirmary, but nevertheless ... ]