Yes, I suppose.

[He sighs, turning to sit more properly, but leaning back a bit dramatically.]

I would prefer the blood in its more pure form, not in these . . . sausages. Perhaps I can ask later.

[He fails to mention he means if he could get blood poured in a cup or some such, not the ability to drink straight from the neck.]

[He glanced at him at that question, startled, then turns his eyes down to his lap. A dread overcomes his gaze, and a grimace mars his face. He mutters:]

Maybe. I don't know.

[Running a hand through his hair, his head falls back against the couch. Heaving a sigh, he says more clearly:]

It's complicated.

[Would it even work on him? Being a spawn and being cursed with it from another world? Dare he get his hopes up only for them to be cruelly dashed away? Though perhaps that is a punishment he deserves as much as his vampirism for damning thousands of souls.]

Spawn.

[He corrects him, gaze returning to him.]

I'm not a true vampire, I'm a spawn of one. It's also a curse not from this world, so it may not work as it should. Especially since they speak of it as if it's not some curse, but something akin to a . . . a cold? [He, of course, won't delve deeper into his other, more personal thoughts on the matter. Those he will just have to suffer alone like a true angsty vampire. He shrugs.] Those two reasons alone don't inspire much hope in me.

A zombie? [The disdain in his voice is palpable, but then with a tsk he looks aside.] At least a zombie doesn't know it's a slave. But, yes, all of the downsides of a vampire with none of the powers. It's a delight.

[He shrugs, and waves a hand.]

I didn't come over here for such depressing and dull matters. [He smiles at him, an attempt of brightness after having to dwell on traumatic memories.] I was going to see the urchins, show them something fun. Would you like to come with?

[Astarion wants to say something biting in return. His situation didn't merely "suck", and it normally would set his hackles rising, but something about this day mellowed him out enough the urge to making a cutting reply fades away quickly.

He's relatively surprised when Taryon leans in. Astarion is of course aware that he has made a nuisance of himself to the human, an amusing past time, but it seems perhaps his pitiable story has made him drop his defenses a little. He smirks.]

It's a surprise, darling! For you and the little ragamuffins.

[He stands, placing a hand over his heart.]

I swear I am not planning anything nefarious.

How adorable. [He leans back, curious finger tapping at his lips. He hasn't met someone either so negative or so positive in quite a long time.] Gray areas do exist, so I would say my reasoning lies somewhere within there.

[He brushes past him, giving him a amicable tap to the shoulder.]

Come along, Taryon, you'll find out when the children do.

[He's not intending to make Taryon uncomfortable on this day, but he can tell he still is nonetheless. Part of him deep down is quite satisfied with that.

He shrugs theatrically.]

Nope, you may relax and sit amongst the children and watch should you desire. Besides, I think the children like you. They still play with your toys.

[Glancing at him as he falls into step beside him, one of his eyebrows quirk up seeing how excited he is to hear that. It's a bit pitiable; what is in his past to make him as happy as a puppy getting a head pat to be told kids play with his toys. (Especially considering his seen children entertain themselves with just sticks.)

He snorts, grinning.]

All right, I promise I won't do anything particularly awful.

[They reach the room that had become the ersatz playroom for the orphans. Astarion opens the door with a flourish, calling out:]

Hello, urchins!

[The ones he has endeared himself to get up and rush over, some calling him Mister Elf, others trying to say his name and messing it up ]

Yes, yes, you're happy to see me, but remember the rules, no touching...!

[It's the quiet weird kids Astarion has troubles with, he mostly winds up just sitting with them ignoring them because they seem to be ignoring him. The rowdy ones he can at least gain a foothold.]

I do have something to show you all, though it isn't magic. Why don't you lot go gather around, including you--

[He looks at Taryon.]

--and I shall start.

[The children excitedly spread out around him, plopping on the floor or a chair they yank over. He overlooks it all with a half-smirk on his lips, hands akimbo.

Once they were all settled, he speaks as his hand deftly loosens the sheath of one of his daggers.]

I was practicing some in my room--helps with the boredom, you know--and thought I ought to show off to you, my tiny tot of an audience. Watch...!

[And so he begins. The dagger almost seems to just appear in his hand, and it glints and flickers, doing a dance in his hand as it goes from point up to point down, a short spin to the side and tumbling over his knuckles until it is back in his hand--then it's spinning up into the air, over his head, making everyone crane their heads to see it. But surely it's rotation is too fast, there is no way even someone like Astarion can track it and catch it without harming himself, but it falls and with a snap of the wrist he has it caught, hilt firmly in his grasp.]

[Children aren't all that hard to impress. Even when he was a spoiled tot, Astarion was dazzled by acts of feat like this at the circus or buskers. All the same, he still has a silly sense of pride when they cheer, some jumping up to clap. When he glances at the adult amongst them and sees Taryon has a look of wonderment on his face, maybe tinged with concern, Astarion feels even more puffed-up.]

Would you like to see more?

[He asks both the children and Taryon, idly flipping the dagger, and with the resounding sounds from the kids he knows the answer. He doesn't have a long repertoire, but he has one more show up his sleeve. A sort of juggling act, but with only one dagger, which may seem lackluster considering but he adds in more spins and impressive catches, most notably tossing it from behind his back and over his shoulder.]