[ The five men look up from where they're lounging, regarding Astarion with open suspicion. On one hand, it seems very convenient for a pack of guerrillas to be attacking them right now, but on the other, it would make sense for a pack of guerrillas to be attacking them right now. Caught between two diametrically opposing opinions, half of the men get up grudgingly to investigate ("you're gettin' a beating if it turns out you're lying, elf"), and the other half－ the two men who'd restrained Astarion earlier－ grab Astarion by the elbow and wrestle him onto the ground, holding him between their bodies like a novelty to gawk at.
"How'd that one-eyed freak get you to agree to work for him, anyway?" The man on Astarion's right leans in, his acrid breath tickling his ear. "You know what he is, right? All the shit he's done? Of all the vermin in the forests, he's the worst kind."
Meanwhile, said vermin is loosening the knots around his ankles, ignoring the searing pain running from his wrists to the base of his brain. He hears Astarion's theatrical distraction attempt, and smiles despite himself; it's impossible, how much he loves that stupid cat. ]
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"How'd that one-eyed freak get you to agree to work for him, anyway?" The man on Astarion's right leans in, his acrid breath tickling his ear. "You know what he is, right? All the shit he's done? Of all the vermin in the forests, he's the worst kind."
Meanwhile, said vermin is loosening the knots around his ankles, ignoring the searing pain running from his wrists to the base of his brain. He hears Astarion's theatrical distraction attempt, and smiles despite himself; it's impossible, how much he loves that stupid cat. ]