[ Astarion falters. Genuine displays of emotion from anyone who isn't Iorveth have always been difficult and uncomfortable to navigate, especially when it's regarding something so private and somewhat embarrassing as his history with Cazador. He looks down at his plate, poking the sausage with his fork. ]

...What's done is done.

[ Maybe he should have recruited the others, but he was terrified of them seeing something so personal. He couldn't bear the thought of that vulnerability; he could barely bear it with Iorveth. Still, it's kind of Gale. ]

But thank you. I do appreciate it.

[ He glances back up. ]

For now, the only help I need from you is locating that cloak. [ A pause, during which he glances at Iorveth's nearly empty plate. ] And, I suppose, continuing to feed this feral beast.