[His laugh makes that unliving heart of his flutter and twist simultaneously. What a wonderful sound, always -- but in this instance, does it usher in relief, or is the notion so silly that the warlock finds it amusing?

Thankfully, Winter banishes away that doubt soon after, and Astarion has to offer something of a wan tilt of his lips, too.]

You know me. One for dramatics.

[(He didn't mean to.)

The question feels strange, being asked what he wants. Granted his own agency like it's simply expected. But moreover, Winter wants to see where this goes, and oh, how that delights and frightens him all at once.]

I don't... I don't know. Not precisely. I only know that I want what you and I have to mean something. But after centuries of those who meant nothing at all, I don't know how to do that.