[ Iorveth huffs around the rim of his wineglass, drinking a bit too quickly for the current time of day; he vaguely notes not to get too sauced before they make it to the circus, if they ever make it there. ]

Any that's within my power to grant. [ Regarding favors. He sits back in his chair, thinking back to past games he's played. ] For example, I lost the souvenir spearhead that'd taken my eye in a game of cards.

[ Very much aware that it was probably weird to have kept the thing that disfigured his face in the first place, and also very much aware that it was even more weird to have thought to put it up for a bet.

He tips his head, birdlike, and half-smirks. ]

Perhaps I'll make you wear only green and leather gear for a day, if I win.

[ The horror. He really doesn't deserve Astarion. ]