[ Iorveth fights back the urge to scoff at "fainting couch", despite being the one to come up with the "look at my poor companion, he is so ill" excuse. Ridiculous. Astarion could probably run laps around most of the partygoers here. ]
This disrespect, despite him trying to spare your mistress the humiliation of having someone be sick mid-auction. [ A long-suffering sigh, punctuated by a shake of his head. ] Maybe we should stay, and see how much she enjoys having an unconscious elf in her ballroom.
[ The tiefling scowls, eyes swimming from the dramatic elves in front of her to the lady of the house, currently happily chatting away with a trio of dwarves. Something in her seems to fold a moment later, and she steps away from the door leading out of the ballroom and into the foyer with an annoyed grunt.
"There's a guest bedroom upstairs. First room on the left. You'll be missing the first few items of the auction, but don't complain about it." She wrinkles her nose. "Gods, look at the dark circles under your eyes. You really should go lie down."
Now she's just being rude for the sake of it. Iorveth can tell, because he, too, employs that technique regularly. He'd say something about it, but they're being waved off as if they're annoying gnats; it's Iorveth's turn to wrinkle his nose and guide Astarion away from the tiefling before more shots can be fired. ]
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This disrespect, despite him trying to spare your mistress the humiliation of having someone be sick mid-auction. [ A long-suffering sigh, punctuated by a shake of his head. ] Maybe we should stay, and see how much she enjoys having an unconscious elf in her ballroom.
[ The tiefling scowls, eyes swimming from the dramatic elves in front of her to the lady of the house, currently happily chatting away with a trio of dwarves. Something in her seems to fold a moment later, and she steps away from the door leading out of the ballroom and into the foyer with an annoyed grunt.
"There's a guest bedroom upstairs. First room on the left. You'll be missing the first few items of the auction, but don't complain about it." She wrinkles her nose. "Gods, look at the dark circles under your eyes. You really should go lie down."
Now she's just being rude for the sake of it. Iorveth can tell, because he, too, employs that technique regularly. He'd say something about it, but they're being waved off as if they're annoying gnats; it's Iorveth's turn to wrinkle his nose and guide Astarion away from the tiefling before more shots can be fired. ]