"I just want you to know you're safe living with me. If this works, good. If not, you'll still always have a place in my home."

Barcus' affections nearly always begin and end with a bent toward protecting and caring for the objects of them. Or, in some cases, hunting them up and down the sword coast when convinced they're in danger. Maybe that's the way he was raised, or maybe it's intrinsic to his personality.

"In Baldur's Gate, too. If I ever get back there, and you choose to visit."

He's quiet for a moment, trying to decide if he has any more to say, then concludes he doesn't. The important thing is the promise he's just made. He picks up his drink in his free hand and tosses back the last of it, squeezing Bel's hand in return as he does so.

"Do you want one?" he asks, putting the glass down. "Or do you want to go somewhere else?"