[ ―Right. Distracting. Iorveth's usual idea of a diversion involves sharp objects pressed against soft skin, which isn't an option if he wants either of them to be able to set foot through the wrought-iron gates of their party venue. Hesitation flits across his well-defined features for a moment, evident in the way his attention see-saws from Astarion to the other partygoers not once, but twice.
Ugh. ] It would be easier to climb a tree, [ is the low grumble he leaves Astarion with before he makes his move. The obvious choice is the half-orc that'd bumped by them earlier, but he doesn't trust himself not to smash a rock against the stranger's smug face; that would certainly be a distraction, but it might be the sort that gets them uninvited before they even pretend to be invited. Hm.
Iorveth tables that strategy for now. Instead of crushing the half-orc's skull, he approaches two rather belligerent middle-aged men who seem to have pre-gamed way harder than strictly necessary― standing directly in the middle of their raucous warpath, Iorveth stops one of the men with a palm to his chest. ]
...I'm lost, [ he says after a beat, exceedingly brusque. He's noticed far too late that he's talking to two drunk humans (he'd hoped that they'd be half-elves at the very least), which throws a few wrenches into his "don't stab anyone" plan.
Regardless, he presses on. ] Where are you two headed, [ is phrased more like a demand than a question, the distinct lack of a lilt at the end of the statement making it sound far harsher than it should. Definitely not sexy. Maybe he should just punch these guys out and steal their stuff, actually????? ]
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Ugh. ] It would be easier to climb a tree, [ is the low grumble he leaves Astarion with before he makes his move. The obvious choice is the half-orc that'd bumped by them earlier, but he doesn't trust himself not to smash a rock against the stranger's smug face; that would certainly be a distraction, but it might be the sort that gets them uninvited before they even pretend to be invited. Hm.
Iorveth tables that strategy for now. Instead of crushing the half-orc's skull, he approaches two rather belligerent middle-aged men who seem to have pre-gamed way harder than strictly necessary― standing directly in the middle of their raucous warpath, Iorveth stops one of the men with a palm to his chest. ]
...I'm lost, [ he says after a beat, exceedingly brusque. He's noticed far too late that he's talking to two drunk humans (he'd hoped that they'd be half-elves at the very least), which throws a few wrenches into his "don't stab anyone" plan.
Regardless, he presses on. ] Where are you two headed, [ is phrased more like a demand than a question, the distinct lack of a lilt at the end of the statement making it sound far harsher than it should. Definitely not sexy. Maybe he should just punch these guys out and steal their stuff, actually????? ]