[ There is absolutely no earthly way Iorveth is going to go on and on about Astarion's pale skin contrasted with the dark fabric of his new jacket, or all the ways in which Iorveth would love to corral him against a wall－ at least, not when Dolores is within earshot. Not because he's afraid of scandalizing a woman who already seems to support the presence of a healthy libido, but because he doesn't want Dolores to think that he's quite as receptive to Astarion's fishing for compliments as he is.

(Fighting an uphill battle, probably.)

Freed from the sweet old woman's scrutiny for now, Iorveth circles Astarion with slow, deliberate strides. A fox surveying its surroundings. ]

I think it would be ridiculous. [ Predictably. He's blunt, but he manages not to sound entirely dismissive. ] A cloak is one thing, but there's no practical advantage to wearing a cape unless one loves to trip.

[ Dolores gives Astarion a sympathetic glance. Iorveth pretends not to see it. ]

I'll only agree to wear it if it matches something of yours.