[Alucard lets Astarion examine as he needs to. The glass bends and moves with no cracks. There's no hint of pain or even a lack of feeling in the finger, and he extends it to brush against Astarion's wrist in order to reinforce that particular point.]

Oh, we can agree that both gods and faith are of no particular value. Frankly, I'm including myself and what pitiful role I played in that fever dream.

[He certainly didn't need to exist in the same way gods of sun and rain and the change of seasons might in mythology.

That's hardly the point now. Astarion's tone is hard not to agree with, but Alucard's opinions don't matter anywhere as much as Astarion's. A single finger is nothing in comparison to one's entire body and way of life.]

And this time around, there wasn't a single person responsible that could just be destroyed in response. [He's not forgotten what he's promised Astarion should his maker ever show up. Alucard also isn't going to just flat out ask how Astarion's feeling now. The tone's enough.] I don't know how we prevent the next change.