Thrawn smiled slightly as Astarion's hand touched his own. Immediately he noticed how cold he was. Much in the same way that a Chiss was cold. Thrawn hadn't touched any other elves, so he couldn't be sure if this was just a racial trait or if it was just something odd about Astarion himself.

"Hands can say much about a person. What they do for work or leisure, how vain they are, and of course, scars."

He raised Astarion's hand and turned it over, so Thrawn could gaze at his palm. Just as he thought, the hands of someone used to more dexterous and cunning tasks. The hands of a thief. Or an assassin.

Letting go of Astarion, he asked, "Do you like art, Astarion?"