[ Gods, Iorveth is sweet. How did he ever feel so irritated by him before? (Probably because that was before Astarion got special treatment, but— details.) Although he allegedly 'requires little', he makes Astarion want to—horror of horrors—do nice things for him. He's gone terribly, awfully, irrevocably soft. ]

You've already given me everything I could require.

[ Not everything, admittedly. He does still long for them to stay in the city—although perhaps not this city—rather than slum it in the woods like squirrels, but that's a sacrifice he's willing to make. Again, he's soft. ]

—But, [ he adds, leaning into Iorveth's warmth, ] if you're offering, I do have something that I'd like from you.

[ Undoubtedly not a surprise. Iorveth may require little, but the same can't be said for him. Like the fluffy white cat Iorveth constantly compares him to, his upkeep is rather high maintenance. ]

I want to bathe. [ Sweat and mussed hair flatter Iorveth, but Astarion is finicky, and he doesn't care for the feeling. Besides, he looks much better once he's freshened up. ] And then I'd like to chop off this hair.

[ He lifts a strand of Iorveth's bangs between his thumb and index finger. ]

I've had quite enough of it dangling in front of your handsome face.