”You of course have full access to my wares.”
Taran, bloody and exhausted as she was, perked up immediately. Astarion just groaned.
“Taran - “
”Hush,” she said, already wiping her hands on the only clean spot left on her robes and making a beeline for the rows of dyes on the wall. “I earned this.”
”No one is arguing that, darling, but surely we should at least - “
”I just want to look - “
”Thank you,” Astarion told Figaro, who had a faint smile on his face like Astarion wasn't dripping sarcasm directly in front of him. “Truly. Thank you for this.”
“Astarion!” Taran was flapping their hand at Astarion from the wall of shelves. “Bring me the bag! Some of these will look amazing on you - “
”Can we stop tracking blood in the good man’s shop, perhaps?” Astarion walked over, taking Taran by the shoulders. “It will be here in the morning. I promise.”
“But what if it’s not?” She protested, but allowed herself to be steered out of the store. “What if the discount is limited-time?!”
”It’s not,” Figaro promised, chuckling as they passed by. “It is in fact permanent, for your and your friends.”
”You see?” Astarion maneuvered her towards the door, where Shadowheart and Jaheira were already waiting. “Come on, let’s go ruin the hotel laundress’ day. Again.”
As they walked, the adrenaline wore off and the situation settled over them fully. Their steps slowed, their shoulders slumped, and when Astarion glanced over at Taran he saw their eyes staring into the distance without really seeing anything in front of her. It was a hollow, haunted look that he identified with far too much, so he cleared his throat and nudged her with one elbow.
”Hm?” Taran shook herself, looking up at him. “Yes?”
“What…” He stopped, clearing his throat. “Why are you so obsessed with the dyes? It’s the first thing you go looking for, any shop we go in, any roadside merchant - “
”Oh.” Taran stared off again, but this time they were thinking, not dissociating. “I guess I just…like having options?” She shrugged. “I haven’t had the luxury of options very often. It’s usually just ‘oh I have this thing now, this is the thing that I have’.”
Astarion tipped his head. “Fair enough. But why pull me into it?” He flashed a smile to take the sting out of his words, and she returned it.
“You deserve nice things,” they returned with aplomb. Then, more quietly, as he started to protest: “You deserve choices.”
His mouth clicked shut and he was silent for a long time.
Then he just reached out and took their hand. Just briefly, because not having their weapon hands free made them both twitchy, and also they were both still absolutely disgusting with blood and other distasteful fluids. But he caught her fingers in his, squeezing briefly before releasing them. She flashed him a quick smile, and he couldn’t help but return it.
“You can get five,” he decided.
“Five?!” Her squawk of protest turned into bickering all the way up the street, both of them smiling the whole time.