[ Dolores is even more delulu than Iorveth if she thinks Astarion is lovely, but he takes the compliment regardless, basking in the warmth of her praise. Kindness has been a rarity in his life, and receiving it still feels foreign and incredible. Maybe not all people are terrible. Just most of them. ]

And why shouldn't she? I'm a delight.

[ He has no mother now--more than likely, she's still alive, but no one would be pleased to see the son they buried come back as the undead--which is all the more reason he deserves to be doted on. Neither of his families, biological or vampiric, are going to do it.

He curls his arm tighter around Iorveth's, pressing their sides together so he can share in Iorveth's warmth while the cool evening breeze blows. ]

Don't be jealous. She's fond of you, too. [ With a raised eyebrow: ] And, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were fond of her.