[ A wood elf! Astarion resists the urge to laugh, but only barely. The Fist is right about one thing: he's no tree-hugger. As for the compliment, it doesn't particularly excite him, but he has centuries of experience pretending to be excited by things he doesn't care for. He laughs like the Fist has made a hilarious joke, throwing his head back for good measure. ]
Goodness, no!
[ He gestures to himself, up and down. ]
Me, a wood elf? And silver hair? This is clearly ivory.
[ Astarion accentuates the statement with a flip of his hair, before quickly realizing that such a movement would expose the bruise Henrik gave him and smoothing his hair back down. ]
But if I had to be stopped by a man of the law, I'm thankful it was one so... [ Now he gestures to the Fist, at a genuine loss for words. There's really nothing complimentary he has to say. ] ...Indescribable.
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Goodness, no!
[ He gestures to himself, up and down. ]
Me, a wood elf? And silver hair? This is clearly ivory.
[ Astarion accentuates the statement with a flip of his hair, before quickly realizing that such a movement would expose the bruise Henrik gave him and smoothing his hair back down. ]
But if I had to be stopped by a man of the law, I'm thankful it was one so... [ Now he gestures to the Fist, at a genuine loss for words. There's really nothing complimentary he has to say. ] ...Indescribable.