Of all the things we've done at the dead of night, I'd be surprised that this would be the thing that piques their attention.

[He can't help but snort at the thought- a quiet little sound of mirth that is more a rush of air out of his nostrils than aught else. But it does make sense for their campmates to take notice. Astarion, as was his wont, took a special delight in pulling up their quirks and peculiarities and ridiculing them relentlessly for them. Turnabout, in their eyes most likely, would be fair play.

Yet that hardly mattered. He's more than confident that Astarion and his (at times, scathing) tongue would likely be able to turn any sort of commentary around on any foolish enough to bring it up.

He turns his attention fully to the other man, deciding to comb his hand through his curls. A risky move, normally, given how fastidious the other could be about his appearance and most specifically, his hair. Yet his lap has likely ruined the back of it already, and besides. His shoulders are finally starting to loosen up.]

I'm glad. You've never had anyone do this for you before, have you?

[A bit direct, granted. But such was his way.]