[The silence is telling. Astarion's clearly using it to measure, without sight, the sincerity of Bastien's claim. In the end, he has nothing. Nothing left to use against the man. Nothing to prove his unease. Nothing he wants to use, either.]

...so she hasn't said anything to you, either, then.

[How frustrating.

But...]

Ask her, then.

For me. No, not— for me, obviously. Don't let her know I sent you, but I need to know why she's supposedly so damn wary of me now.

Please, darling.