[ It's the tug to his sleeve that will get Iorveth every time. There's something about the gesture that melts him, that makes the world dial down to where Astarion's fingers are curled around the fabric of his shirt.
His posture shifts; the domineering posture he'd adopted to throw up a wall between himself and the proprietress makes way for a slightly less straight-backed slant, a lean that edges him into the circle of Astarion's personal space. ]
Come, [ he says, hooking their arms together and stepping sideways. The cat looks mildly cross with Iorveth, as if protesting the displacement of something that was giving it attention when it wanted it. ] We can serve ourselves, if need be.
[ It should be all the same to the establishment, if Iorveth is offering them coin. He tugs Astarion towards the bar, ignoring the exasperated shrug that Mamzell tries to telegraph their way.
Once they've made enough distance between them and the front counter: ] The nerve of that human to assume that I don't pamper you.
[ Astarion is literally the only person he's ever nice to, gods. The disrespect. ]
no subject
His posture shifts; the domineering posture he'd adopted to throw up a wall between himself and the proprietress makes way for a slightly less straight-backed slant, a lean that edges him into the circle of Astarion's personal space. ]
Come, [ he says, hooking their arms together and stepping sideways. The cat looks mildly cross with Iorveth, as if protesting the displacement of something that was giving it attention when it wanted it. ] We can serve ourselves, if need be.
[ It should be all the same to the establishment, if Iorveth is offering them coin. He tugs Astarion towards the bar, ignoring the exasperated shrug that Mamzell tries to telegraph their way.
Once they've made enough distance between them and the front counter: ] The nerve of that human to assume that I don't pamper you.
[ Astarion is literally the only person he's ever nice to, gods. The disrespect. ]