"You're safe now, darling. So go clean up-" "I'm hungry." you interject, worn out from battle. Astarion gawked at you in disbelief, wondering what you want him to do about that. "So lick your armor. You smell-" "Grilled. Cheese." You interject. "Grill me a cheese." "I'm not grilling you a cheese." He scoffs, until he sees you break down in tears, a sob escaping you. "Oh, for Tyr's sake-"

The smell of melting cheese is heavenly as Astarion flips the nearly-done sandwich in the pan.