[ The scent of vanilla, sweet and soft, isn't one he wouldn't have chosen for himself, but it fits the mood of the night. Water displaces around him as he floats back, tipping indulgently to rest his head on Astarion's shoulder. ]

If I die tomorrow, I'll at least have the memory of this.

[ Uncomplicated and peaceful. The sort of idle happiness he'd never considered having, nor wanting. It's strange that it took an illithid parasite being lodged in his skull for him to get here, but that's life. ]

I never even dreamed of anything like this, before you. In all my years, I'd only ever wanted--

[ A vague wave of his hand. ]

--Quiet. A table full of food. Never with anyone.