[ While Iorveth sinks into the tub, Astarion seeks out clothing. Wyll so politely laundered his things, so he has plenty to choose from now. He selects the dark robe and pant set that Iorveth had purchased for him, shimmying the silky smooth fabric up his legs as Iorveth talks. ]

You're the one who had a sword slice through him recently.

[ If either of them requires rest, he'd think it would be Iorveth. Then again, he never really seems to rest. Maybe, like a shark, if he stops moving, he'll suffocate. Astarion can't relate. There's nothing he wants to do less than be productive.

Pants pulled on, he slips his arms into the robe and comes to crouch by the tub. Unlike Iorveth, he doesn't bother providing any quiet alone time in the bath. ]

One might think that you just want to commit terrorism.