[Astarion doesn't move from where he stands, though something tightens in his shoulders, as though he is momentarily struggling to keep up the cavalier air he's so accustomed to wearing. Yet whatever tension remains there suddenly eases away when the warlock reaches out to touch him, like he's oh-so-gently punched a hole in his demeanor, and his indignity has no choice but to just... drain away.

He exhales briefly, closing his eyes, simply aware of Winter's touch.]

It does. Count for something, I mean.

[Then his eyes open again, crimson-hued gaze taking in Winter's expression.]

I was just... afraid, too, that's all. [Gods, what's happening? Since when did he ever fear someone else getting hurt? He tries to sound less, ah, pathetic about it-] Just for a moment. A flash of panic. My feet just moved on their own, and it really did look like you were about to be rent in two.

Suppose I'm still trying to shake off the excitement. ["Excitement."] It's fine now. ["Fine."] Just no more wild heroics from you, all right?