[ The 'library' is hardly a library at all save for the collection of dirty books along the shelves, which is just fine with Astarion; he makes an internal note to steal one for his perusal later. He's got to find some way to pass the time at the Elfsong, after all. He tilts his head as he reads a notice entitled Rules of the Reading Room, detailing all of the rules the visitors are expected to follow and the salacious 'punishments' should they fail.

With a wrinkle of his nose, he says, ] I don't think the Librarian would have been for me.

[ He's had enough of following rules, even if the discipline doled out here is more of the titillating type.

He eyes the chair—another thing he wouldn't have cared for; once you've been chained to the wall enough times, being bound loses its appeal—and glances up at Iorveth, eyes twinkling mischievously. ]

If you'd rather I just push you up against the bookcase, all you have to do is say so.