As accommodations went, this was certainly acceptable. Not luxury in the way that Astarion might imagine it, but far better than the Emperor's old hideout beneath the Elfsong, a rented room, a bedroll in the wild, and certainly superior to the dormitory in Cazador's palace.

Though there were plenty of things he couldn't quite recognize, the presence of his bag of belongings brought some sort of familiarity into a space full of unfamiliar things, smells, and sounds. No view to the outside either meaning that it was a safe space for him to be awake in during the day.

Gods he missed being able to be in the sun.

He chirped given that he couldn't speak and it sounded appreciative. He hoped.

Astarion wasn't sure if, as the ambassador for Faerûn, he would be staying aboard Thrawn's ship for long or if he eventually would need to find his own way, but for now it was 'home'. And he could probably add to it to make it a tad less... Sterile. All in good time though.

For now his focus was on trying to change back into his humanoid form.