[ Astarion waves a hand nonchalantly, but it's clear by the smile spreading inexorably across his face that the compliment pleases him. Praise on his looks is a dime a dozen, and he's never questioned his beauty as an incontrovertible fact. Things that really matter, though, things like who he is or what he can do, those are the things that he's been taught to doubt by endless criticism and disparagement.

Iorveth wouldn't deign to compliment his skills falsely. He presses his lips together in an attempt to smother the expression, but it's no use. ]

Oh, I know, [ is his airy reply. ] All that, and I look like this.

[ He shuffles the deck once more, and because he does enjoy playing rigged games, he stacks the cards in his favor again. The hand he deals out to Iorveth with a few flicks of his hand is considerably less awful than before, though. ]

What shall we play for this time? Should I play you a ballad if you win?

[ How disappointed Iorveth would be to find out that, no, Astarion doesn't know how to handle a lute or a violin, and he can't even whistle on key. ]