[ It seems Astarion has found himself with some rather unusual company. He's heard tales of fauns before—creatures of the Feywilds, often cast as wild, drunken revelers in the stories—but he's never actually met one before. He takes in those goat-like ears and horns, curious. He also doesn't miss her crown of poisonous blooms; it's difficult to imagine she'd picked them all by mistake. Still, whatever knowledge of poison she may possess evidently does not dampen her interest in the cups of tea laid out on the table before them.

Though, he notes, she doesn't give into their temptation right away. Maybe she, like him, is waiting for someone else to try it first.

Of course, that's certainly not going to be him. ]

That's the beauty of this place, isn't it? [ he says, his smile broadening. ] Any of us can afford to be choosy when so much is free for the taking. I simply prefer something a little more full-bodied. [ He gestures to the table. ] But by all means—if you wish to indulge, don't let me stop you.