Astarion stared at the bloody, severed hand in Ethemon's hand with utter disgust, his features slightly distorted by revulsion, as if the appendage were emitting a sickening stench. (Which it was.)
He instinctively took a step back, wishing he could hurl the horrifying thing miles away, but reason told him it might still prove useful later. He had to suppress his discomfort and watch helplessly as Ethemon resealed the hand and tucked it back into his backpack.
"Care to explain where on earth you got that hand?" Astarion frowned, looking at Ethemon with suspicion, his tone dripping with interrogation.
Chapter 142