It was the third night in a row with him waking up in a cold sweat and his chest desperate for air. You could tell he was having a nightmare and in a sleepy stupor you went to go make him a tea, hoping that'd help him sleep peacefully. Heading back to his tent, he was wide awake. "I- Where were you?" He spoke, anger in his words. He looked toward your hands and noticed the tea, "That better not be for me. I hate tea." Astarion avoided your gaze trying to swallow the lump in his throat.