[ The frown on Astarion's face deepens into the sort of thing that Iorveth would tell him is going to give him wrinkles. His nose crinkles in distaste at the 'underground torture chamber' and even further at the mention of a dead spectator. Usually, he wouldn't be so put off by a little light torture (you know, for fun), but combined with the rotten quality of Araj's blood, it paints a sinister picture. ]

I'm glad you disposed of her. Gods forbid you ended up in that 'laboratory' of hers.

[ She always had an interest in parasite-laden blood, so Astarion wouldn't have been surprised if she had wanted to carry out one of her experiments on Iorveth. Furious, yes, but not surprised.

He glances back at the spot where the Fist had disappeared around the corner again, then tugs on Iorveth's ruffled sleeve. ]

We should get going before my new paramour gets back.

[ Hells, Astarion doesn't even know his name. Probably better that way. ]

Besides, Shadowheart will need to see to that shoulder. [ A pause, then: ] Well, perhaps Halsin. I'm afraid Shadowheart might have had her fill of tending to your injuries.