[ Astarion is truly out here making an elf act unwise. Iorveth has been failing every single INT saving roll tonight, and will continue to fail them as long as Astarion keeps allowing Iorveth to half-cuddle him in front of some guests' literal salads.

He's playing with the fine curls at the back of Astarion's neck when the question lands; he continues to do so as he recalls the matter of why, spooling the threads of his memory to conjure how he'd felt about the other man back then. ]

―My ruse required a skilled lockpicker. [ If Astarion still recalls the crazy plan to walk into the den of a sworn enemy with Iorveth's wrists manacled. ] And I believed that you wouldn't try to play hero if things went south.

[ An uncharitable thing to say, perhaps, but it'd been important for Iorveth not to risk someone else's life while he risked his own; he may not have trusted Astarion to do anything but the bare minimum, but that and wishing harm on him was entirely different. He'd counted on Astarion fucking off the moment things started to go awry.

Ancient history now, really. Iorveth smiles, a private little thing for Astarion's eyes only. ]

More fool me. You always defy what I expect of you.