[ The pants are a little lurid, if only because one can actually see the shape of Iorveth's body instead of him looking like a formless mass swimming in an outfit that's somehow both too big and too small. Dolores has outdone herself, honestly. He's going to be fantasizing about Iorveth in these pants for tendays, if they're lucky enough to survive that long. ]

Unfortunately, [ he says in regards to their lack of invitation to a Baldurian sex party. In actuality, he'd hate being at any gathering that centered around sex. Although he's improved with the help of their companions—Shadowheart's gentle healing, Karlach's bear hugs, Wyll's pats on the back—Iorveth's is still the only touch he can tolerate for extended periods of time. ] But we must persevere despite our disappointments.

[ As Dolores flits around Iorveth, Astarion takes the liberty of tucking his shirt in a little tighter, pulling the waistband of his trousers up to cinch everything in at the waist. No boyfriend of his will ever look sloppy at a party if he has anything to say about it! ]

You look stunning, darling. I'm all atingle.

[ Perhaps not the most appropriate thing to say in front of dear Dolores, but she's hardly flustered by it as she kneels down to check the length of his pant legs. A fastidious woman, dedicated to her craft. ]