[ Iorveth's nose tickles Astarion's ear, and he fights the urge to giggle in an entirely undignified way. It's strange how averse he is to the idea of being touched by most people--hells, even to the idea of them standing too near--but how very much in favor he is of being close to Iorveth. His torso is warm against Astarion's back, his arms snug and comforting around his middle. Astarion shifts the makeshift bag to one hand, using his freed one to move Iorveth's arms a little tighter around him. ]

Jasmine and honey, I think, but perhaps I should commission gold and orchids instead. I don't mind the idea.

[ He is the type of person who deserves a unique, one-of-a-kind scent... that isn't the stench of undead. ]

I'll spend some of the coin on you, of course. I rather enjoy seeing you be spoiled with sweets.

[ It's so utterly incongruous with Iorveth's stern demeanor. Watching him shovel cakes and pastries into his mouth is entertainment all its own. ]