[ Dolores whizzes around them, a gnome-shaped blur as she fusses with hems and the odd loose end. She promises to bring them a few selections of capes Iorveth can try－ suggesting one that drapes over one shoulder, if Astarion wants both the drama of a cape but also a practical view of Iorveth's back(side)－ and leaves the two to converse for a bit while she flits out to rummage through her atelier.

Some breathing room, finally. Iorveth lowers his shoulders and stretches his neck from side to side, relaxing in a way that he only does when he's in a room alone with someone he trusts, lowering some of his omnipresent walls. ]

I'm surprised that you didn't make her prepare gilded underclothes.

[ Not that they wouldn't look nice on Astarion, mind. All dolled up, and Iorveth is already looking forward to being naked; he's truly lost his mind. Navigating towards Astarion, he readjusts the high collar of Astarion's doublet and runs his thumb over delicate embroidery. ]

...You do look beautiful, [ is a quiet addendum. Just for the record. ] Regal. Finery suits you.