“Hush, Myshka,” Astarion scolded his cat, focusing on his sewing. “Let me finish, then I’ll feed you.” Business was slow tonight, the anniversary of the battle. Most were celebrating, but Astarion preferred quiet. He paused, glancing at the fireworks. He wondered about Gale and Shadowheart. With a sigh, he resumed stitching. After the battle, he decided to live, not just exist. A bell tinkled. “In the back, darling!” he called. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”