After two-hundred years, Astarion could more or less tell when people were looking at him without wanting to seem like they were looking at him. Having spent so long drawing people in with his appearance, noticing that sort of thing came as naturally to him as breathing came to the living.
He could also tell that the man was rambling. Nervous. Could hear the racing of his heart.
Still holding the datapad with one hand, he reached out to brush the tips of his fingers over where he could feel his pulse thudding away beneath his skin, up along his jawline and up to his ear so that he could tuck a few strands of dark hair back behind the man's ear.
His touch was light, though. Easy to pull away from. Casual even, somehow, "Breathe, darling. You can take your time explaining it to me. I'm not going anywhere."
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He could also tell that the man was rambling. Nervous. Could hear the racing of his heart.
Still holding the datapad with one hand, he reached out to brush the tips of his fingers over where he could feel his pulse thudding away beneath his skin, up along his jawline and up to his ear so that he could tuck a few strands of dark hair back behind the man's ear.
His touch was light, though. Easy to pull away from. Casual even, somehow, "Breathe, darling. You can take your time explaining it to me. I'm not going anywhere."