[Oh, he can't help it: he laughs. Not the wry little chuckles he offers when someone says something sly— no, this is a proper laugh, too loud and too bright, startled out of him as Astarion makes the most ridiculous little wail.]

It's slobber, fussy thing, cease your complaining.

[He grabs for his wrist, keeping his hand absolutely within range of the wolf's enthusiastic greeting. Is this mean and petty? Yes! Does he regret it? Absolutely not, laughter still visible in the crinkle of his eyes.]

She's saying hello. And I will train her, if you wish, but not without you. You are her master now, if that is what you choose; it will do her good to see you while she learns commands, and make the association between the two.

But she will drool on your things. And in all likelihood piss on them too. I suggest you grow used to the idea now.

[But fine, fine, he'll release him. A few seconds, and then, deliberately:]

Just wait until she licks your mouth to try and rouse you from bed. I'll hear the screams from Hightown, I'm sure.