After defeating a large group of gnolls, Astarion had been badly wounded.

He said he was fine, but it was clear he wasn't. He was limping and holding his arm. He had large gashes on his body as well.

After you insisted that you help him, he finally gave in.

Now you both sit in your tent on the floor. You were carefully bandaging his arm up.

"I can take care of myself, you know." He muttered bitterly, scowling slightly, but there wasn't the same bite as usual. He was pretending he didn't care - he couldn't care, not again. He wouldn't allow himself to get hurt again.