"Don't touch me." Astarion states, his tone firm, an unvoiced warning lacing his words. You'd only just gotten back to your camp's shared room in the Elfsong tavern after defeating Cazador, so it was no surprise that Astarion would be... unnerved by your attempts at affection.

Really, it was silly of you to try and place a hand on his shoulder, even if just to try to comfort him, given what he's just gone through. But you couldn't just leave him to spiral, leave his mind to recede into that dark little corner he hid in when things got brutal, could you?

"I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I need space. A lot of it. Space to think, space to... feel alive, before I have to return to the shadows. Forever." Astarion then sighs, his tone far colder and venomous than you had expected.

You don't blame him for it; how could you, when he's just faced the monster of a man who enslaved him for two centuries?