despite being surrounded by partygoers and applicants for an easy one-night-stand, Astarion sat silently on a bench without even a wine glass in hand. Deep in his thoughts, he seemed distraught, perhaps even forlorn. Looking at the floor with tears about to form in his eyes. As the memories of his enslavement to Cazador flooded back to him he was reminded of how little control he used to have over his own life.

“Oh dear…”