[The benefit of three minutes is that Astarion's— not settled. Settled isn't the word for it. But he's lost momentum, there, in that short a span of time. What's left is an hollower voice. Rough-edged, but equally faded.]

Alexandrie is your friend, is she not? You two are close. You've worked together, you've entertained together—

[It isn't spiralling, necessarily. He does worse when he tailspins, but clearly he's had time enough to piece together his own assumptions:]

What did you say. Did you warn her about me? Is that it?

'Look out for Astarion, wolf in sheep's clothing. A monster.'