[ It probably says something about him that he'd have no qualms with getting down and dirty in an elderly woman's house (and place of business) while her well-dressed cats claw at the door. He has to laugh a little, a raspy thing under his breath; for years, there was nothing he wanted to do less than touch and be touched, but Iorveth brings out in him an uncharacteristic desire to be close. Perhaps it's because he knows that if he asked never to be touched below the waist again, Iorveth would comply. Perhaps he just finds eyepatches unbearably sexy. It's probably a combination of the two. ]

Ugh, there's nothing less fortunate.

[ Again, laughable. How strange it is to want to be alone with Iorveth more than he'd like to be alone with himself. He sighs, laying his hand on top of Iorveth's. ]

Ah, but we'll be done with this whole [ —a dismissive wave of his free hand— ] brain worm business before long. There'll be plenty of time for debauchery then, my love.

[ As cocky as he sounds, there's a little uncertain waver in his voice at the end of his sentence, like he's not confident that he's allowed to call Iorveth that. It does undermine his claims of debauchery a bit. ]