[ "Farce?" Dolores asks, chuckling and shaking her head. "Dear, it's a party!" Of course, she has the impression that they were actually invited, but Astarion sees no reason to correct her assumption. He rolls his eyes, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of his face. ]

It's hardly a farce. Do I not belong at an auction for Baldur's Gate's most important people?

[ It's a rhetorical question. He might not be a magistrate anymore, but he still likes to behave like one. He belongs there, really, in the midst of all of that glitz and glamour. A little sparkle is the least he deserves after centuries of dullness and dinge.

He taps Iorveth's chin with one long, spindly finger. ]

Besides, you might actually have fun, and then won't you look like a fool?