[ "Asinine" makes him frown, and his immediate answer is only slightly clipped: ]
Because I value you, you fool.
[ More than he values himself, even, but that would probably set Astarion off even more. Iorveth wisely keeps that thought to himself, though he's in no position to talk about anyone being foolish; expecting someone to write him off so quickly is the mark of someone with a damaged view on relationships, but he's convinced that that's just the way of things when it comes to himself.
A low, long breath follows his snapback. How crazy― for once, he doesn't care to fight with someone on something, or to get up and leave. Briefly, he considers saying nothing else and letting Astarion interpret his intentions while they stay in bed, but he predicts that that won't go over well, either.
So he remembers his original intentions for dragging Astarion into bed― to show appreciation for the night prior, to spoil him a little― and does what he normally wouldn't. He concedes. ]
...I spoke too soon. [ Squeezing closer, from where his arm is still slung across Astarion's shoulders. ] Stay, Astarion.
[ A stubborn part of Iorveth whispers that this doesn't even bear saying, but loses out to the side that stupidly adores Astarion too much. He tries to make eye contact, moss-green to blood-red, and hold it. ]
no subject
Because I value you, you fool.
[ More than he values himself, even, but that would probably set Astarion off even more. Iorveth wisely keeps that thought to himself, though he's in no position to talk about anyone being foolish; expecting someone to write him off so quickly is the mark of someone with a damaged view on relationships, but he's convinced that that's just the way of things when it comes to himself.
A low, long breath follows his snapback. How crazy― for once, he doesn't care to fight with someone on something, or to get up and leave. Briefly, he considers saying nothing else and letting Astarion interpret his intentions while they stay in bed, but he predicts that that won't go over well, either.
So he remembers his original intentions for dragging Astarion into bed― to show appreciation for the night prior, to spoil him a little― and does what he normally wouldn't. He concedes. ]
...I spoke too soon. [ Squeezing closer, from where his arm is still slung across Astarion's shoulders. ] Stay, Astarion.
[ A stubborn part of Iorveth whispers that this doesn't even bear saying, but loses out to the side that stupidly adores Astarion too much. He tries to make eye contact, moss-green to blood-red, and hold it. ]