[ Mamzell seems mollified by Astarion's compliance, but there's a questing glint in the man's eye that Iorveth notes as they try to slip past the trio on their way out of the room. The scrutiny takes physical form when the man reaches for Astarion's forearm when he's within range, fingers squeezing with the intent to keep him in place.
"Wait. I want names, before you two leave."
Authoritative, in stern neutral. The woman standing next to him looks embarrassed by her paramour's sudden insistence, and tugs at the hem of his shirt. "Oh, don't be like that― you're off-duty right now, and they were just trying to have some fun."
A Fist? Iorveth doesn't actually care what the man is, actually: his expression pinches into a dangerous frown, sluggish muscles coiling in the promise of a fight. ]
no subject
"Wait. I want names, before you two leave."
Authoritative, in stern neutral. The woman standing next to him looks embarrassed by her paramour's sudden insistence, and tugs at the hem of his shirt. "Oh, don't be like that― you're off-duty right now, and they were just trying to have some fun."
A Fist? Iorveth doesn't actually care what the man is, actually: his expression pinches into a dangerous frown, sluggish muscles coiling in the promise of a fight. ]
Don't make trouble, human.