[He'll give her that moment, of course. And he'll also fail his perception check, unable to notice that passing measure of failed countenance, where she's less the stoic maid and more just a girl trying to regain her balance off the heels of nearly being devoured by shadow.

But even so, he can sense the sincerity present in her apology, more prevalent than the usual arms-length politeness she wields so easily. Astarion set his jaw. He wishes to tell her to stop apologizing, that this was hardly her fault at all, but for once in his centuries-old life, he doesn't necessarily wish to-

To what? To make it worse?

Gods, he doesn't know. He still feels so ill-equipped for moments like these, offering assurances and comfort. He doesn't know how.]

Well. Who can blame you for that? Resting, to let everything else wash away-- No worries, no remembrances of the past. Believe me, darling, I felt much the same when my shadow tried to gobble me up.

[He sighs. A bit more somberly-]

It's fine. Really. If you were a burden, then I'd have let you sink into the dark and wished you good luck on the other side.