[Astarion takes in every minute change Taryon's expression makes, greedily hording them in his memory. If this can grow into something more he wants to remember it, every detail, even the tacky bathroom. Even the toilet.]

Yes. It seems you are.

[Not even Tav had tried to reach for his hand. And of course, Astarion hadn't tried, either. It was too hard, too frightening, to be so vulnerable. Even when he knew it would be so, so easy to woo Taryon, melt him with pretty words and flattery, he was too trepidatious to do so. It was one thing to do it to manipulate someone, another to do it in earnest. Easier to let it linger and fester, hope the affection rotted away.

But now he's happy it hadn't.

He chuckles again, smirking as he half shrugs.]

I have a cold everything. But I can warm up. [Sorry, he can't help the purr in his voice as he makes that double entendre, but then continues more naturally:] Like when you hold a cold stone in your hand for long enough, it grows warm.