[ The tadpole connection breaks, and Iorveth lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Always a bit of a crapshoot, how that psychic back-and-forth works.

An inhale to steady himself again, and he tips his head. His expression is appropriately dry. ]

So says a man who's never been ugly a day in his life. [ He pauses here, reconsidering his phrasing. ] And in his death.

[ Yes, yes, he's aware that Astarion is a vampire. Iorveth gestures with one hand, halfway between contemplative and vexed. ]

You can fish for compliments after we've found what we're looking for. [ They'd sound nicer among belongings that don't belong to them, Iorveth wagers. ] Shall we go, or do you need a word or two about how you're still the most beautiful man here?