[ It's pleasant, working to the soft sound of occasionally-displaced water. Astarion's presence becomes something ambient and, again, safe, which soothes the occasional stab of impatience whenever Iorveth winds a stitch out of place.
He looks up from his work when spoken to, shifting his focus from progressively-more circular suns to Astarion's relaxed slouch against the tub. ]
An insult to housewives everywhere.
[ A joke for a joke. No scathing comment, no sharp biteback. He stretches his neck from side to side, working out the tension he'd accrued from bowing over the cloth on his lap. ]
It's this, or I keep ruining all of your good shirts.
no subject
He looks up from his work when spoken to, shifting his focus from progressively-more circular suns to Astarion's relaxed slouch against the tub. ]
An insult to housewives everywhere.
[ A joke for a joke. No scathing comment, no sharp biteback. He stretches his neck from side to side, working out the tension he'd accrued from bowing over the cloth on his lap. ]
It's this, or I keep ruining all of your good shirts.