[ No complaints about the choice of table, either－ Iorveth, too, is a terminally paranoid elf, so the vantage point suits him well. The only thing he debates is whether to sit next to Astarion or to sit across from him, and he ultimately decides on the latter. He doesn't want to make things too easy for Astarion, especially with this rather unwarranted callout.

Keeping a table's worth of space between them, Iorveth leans backwards in his chair. ]

What complaint would I have? That there are too many flowers?

[ It seems the most obvious reason for pushback. He flicks his gaze across the room, and reaches behind him to brush long fingers against the flowered garlands hanging from exposed ceiling beams. ]

You seem to forget that I'm of the forest. The flowers are the least offensive things here.

[ The people, he can take or leave. The pretty barkeep can stay. ]