[ It's a small miracle that Dolores hasn't noticed how both men seem to be avoiding mirrors like the plague, but she's being kept busy: Iorveth notes how thrilled she seems to be that she's getting not one, but two entire customers to flutter around, and wonders if the poor woman hasn't adopted a score of cats with her old fool of a husband out of loneliness. A bit of a crime, that. He would care less if she weren't so skilled with a needle and so sweet in her demeanor－ as it stands, Iorveth makes a mental note to bully Kurug (who turns out to be looking not only for an outfit, but an apprenticeship) to work on his marketing skills.

Idle, overly-empathetic thoughts while Astarion changes. Terrible. Thank the gods that Astarion is extremely distracting. He seems to shimmer in his new outfit, wrapped in silk (if that's what it is, Iorveth has no idea) and delicately-embroidered gold, framed and embellished with flawless ease.

After an obvious pause to take everything in, too long to be casual: ]

You'll have people lining up to make smalltalk with you all night.

[ Doesn't Astarion ever get tired of being so ridiculously good-looking??? Ugh. Iorveth takes a step forward and rakes his palm down Astarion's chest, unnecessarily smoothing the fabric down. ]

Still the most beautiful thing I've seen, [ he assesses. Not exactly painting a picture with words.

Second attempt: ] ...Your waist looks eminently hold-able.

[ Dolores actually laughs. At him, presumably. "Oh! It might be better to just look in a mirror, love. He's obviously speechless." ]