[ Iorveth hardly needs to watch for resistance, because Astarion has no intentions of resisting him. It's he who deserves to put his hands on Iorveth, not some stranger, so he does just that, squeezing Iorveth's hand and winding his free arm under that debonair cape and around his waist to pull him closer. ]
I'm not abandoning my trinkets, [ he says, tone a little offended. Just as he's the one who deserves to feel Iorveth up, he's the one who deserves to keep these trinkets. Who else is going to have them, the wealthy idiots upstairs? Please. ]
But, [ he continues, ] I'm sure we could find a suitably upscale tavern to wear this finery to.
[ Not some dingy old tavern where common adventurers congregate. Someplace fancy, where a man can wear a cape without judgment. ]
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I'm not abandoning my trinkets, [ he says, tone a little offended. Just as he's the one who deserves to feel Iorveth up, he's the one who deserves to keep these trinkets. Who else is going to have them, the wealthy idiots upstairs? Please. ]
But, [ he continues, ] I'm sure we could find a suitably upscale tavern to wear this finery to.
[ Not some dingy old tavern where common adventurers congregate. Someplace fancy, where a man can wear a cape without judgment. ]