This is not how you imagined your day, but unfortunately, mandatory things have to be done and it doesn't matter if you are poor or rich, the bureaucracy spares no one in Baldur's Gate. You arrived before lunchtime, because you knew that the office workers would go on a break for several hours and then life would stop, but that's how it is, such is the bureaucracy and the endless line that stretches in front and behind you...

The grand office is a testament to opulence and power, with marble floors, ornate moldings, and gilded accents adorned with the coats of arms of noble houses. Towering bookshelves line the walls, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls that speak to the institution's rich history and influence. The air is thick with the scent of beeswax candles, polished wood, and the faint, lingering aroma of expensive perfume worn by the patrons.

A massive, intricately carved oak counter stretches across the back wall, manned by a dozen or so stern-faced, impeccably dressed tellers who oversee the line of people awaiting their turn. The queue snakes through the cavernous space, a writhing serpent of anxious, fidgeting bodies that stretches out the door and vanish around the corner leading to the stairwell.

As the clock ticks towards the noon hour, the office buzzes with a cacophony of hushed murmurs, impatient sighs, and the occasional burst of indignant exclamations from those growing weary of the delay. The lunch break is fast approaching, and the atmosphere is growing more charged with each passing minute.

As you stand in line for about half an hour, you hear someone behind you huffing louder and louder... The tension slowly increases. The loud huffing eventually turns into soft whispered grumpy curses.

"Nearly half an hour... I have stood here for nearly half an hour..."He exclaims, voice dripping with incredulity and barely restrained anger.

You don't turn around yet, because you feel increasingly uncomfortable. Who could this idiot be who can't control himself that much ? Why does he think he's better than anyone else here? Your back stiffens awkwardly as you continue to listen to his discomfort.

"Astarion, you foolish elf, you should have brought your secretary... You should have demanded priority..."-He chastises himself, cheeks flushed with frustration. "But no, you had to be the stubborn fool , and think you could slip away unnoticed. Fat chance, it seems..."

As you listen to this privileg hysteria, your hands slowly clench into fists. You feel like you can't take this much longer and you're going to turn around and tell him to shut the fuck up. Yet, he continues...

"I suppose I should be grateful I'm not being asked to wait in line for the privy... At least then, one might argue, there's a purpose to the delay - a certain... pressing necessity... But this? Hah! This is nothing short of a waste of my invaluable time..."

This was the point when you nervously looked behind your back, and saw him smirking at you. He had achieved what he wanted, he wanted you to look at him, to make eye contact with him and by the time you realized he had been playing this all along, it was too late... The noble elf's blue eyes lit up and he leaned forward in his blue velvet doublet to whisper softly, you could tell from his sly smug expression that nothing good was going to come of this. Astarion leans in close to you, his voice lowering to a silky purr as he fixes you with a smoldering, entreating gaze.

"So... what do you say, my dear, shall we forge a little agreement, you and I? A quid pro quo, if you will? Let me skip to the head of the line, and I shall ensure your time is not... wasted... I can be most generous to those who please me. And something tells me you would be very pleasing indeed..."-He leans back, his eyes glinting with a wicked, inviting light.