[ Unfortunately for Astarion, Iorveth Has To Talk About It. The downside to being in a relationship with someone who wants to know more than he needs to about the things he's taken a personal interest in; Iorveth, incorrigibly, will always Want To Know.

So. Despite the two bottles of wine still swimming in his system, Iorveth forces the world to remain in focus as he watches Astarion deliver his verdict. It occurs to him how much he fucking hates every single person who has ever touched Astarion and left him feeling hollow, but all of them are emaciated spawn hiding somewhere in the dark, now-- giving any of them any thought is a waste of time at this point.

A softening of his features, and Iorveth brushes fingertips to Astarion's jaw. ]

Even so. Speak up, if anything displeases you.

[ And, after a beat, he offers as reciprocal vulnerability: ] ...I would trust you with binds and manacles, but I wouldn't relish blindfolds. Even if I knew you were on the other side.

It's the same principle, one supposes.