[No, he has never experienced a hug quite like this one in two long, dreadful centuries.
And Astarion just lets it linger for a moment, holding on steadfast, feeling Winter's warmth and taking in the scent of his hair. His fingertips press into his back, and his shoulders rise with a huff. Gratitude and fond amusement exist in his reply, imparting a half-joke.]
Oh, you thank me now. Give it a bit, and see if you'll be thanking me later.
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And Astarion just lets it linger for a moment, holding on steadfast, feeling Winter's warmth and taking in the scent of his hair. His fingertips press into his back, and his shoulders rise with a huff. Gratitude and fond amusement exist in his reply, imparting a half-joke.]
Oh, you thank me now. Give it a bit, and see if you'll be thanking me later.