[ Very rude of Iorveth to sit so far away. He slides down in his seat, stretching his legs out to tap his foot against Iorveth's. ]
Mm, you're right. I should have guessed that you like pretty things.
[ Because he likes this pretty thing, obviously. Speaking of pretty things, the barkeep comes over in a flurry of sparkles, whisking three glasses onto their table (one for Astarion and, as requested, two for Iorveth). The glasses are just as beautiful as everything else here: not true crystal, he thinks, but a close enough imitation. The liquid within is a deep burgundy and smells faintly of allspice and anise.
"A spiced Cormyrian wine," she tells them, beaming. "My personal favorite. Isn't it a beautiful color?" ]
Gorgeous, [ he lies. Astarion couldn't really care less what the drink looks like—or even really what it tastes like, considering how lackluster the experience of drinking anything but blood is—but if it's potent enough to get Iorveth drunk, he'll take it. ] And strong, I hope.
no subject
Mm, you're right. I should have guessed that you like pretty things.
[ Because he likes this pretty thing, obviously. Speaking of pretty things, the barkeep comes over in a flurry of sparkles, whisking three glasses onto their table (one for Astarion and, as requested, two for Iorveth). The glasses are just as beautiful as everything else here: not true crystal, he thinks, but a close enough imitation. The liquid within is a deep burgundy and smells faintly of allspice and anise.
"A spiced Cormyrian wine," she tells them, beaming. "My personal favorite. Isn't it a beautiful color?" ]
Gorgeous, [ he lies. Astarion couldn't really care less what the drink looks like—or even really what it tastes like, considering how lackluster the experience of drinking anything but blood is—but if it's potent enough to get Iorveth drunk, he'll take it. ] And strong, I hope.