[ Protect him. Iorveth blinks surprise out of his eye for an uncharitable moment, though it's less that he doubts Astarion could― they've destroyed a giant brain creature capable of subjugating the Realms, of course Astarion could― but because he didn't see the statement coming. An indictment against himself, rather than Astarion: this entire time, Iorveth's only been seeing things from his own, infuriated perspective.

Of course, he could still argue. Feels inclined, even. "Protect me by protecting yourself" comes to mind, but even Iorveth can see how saying this might give Astarion an aneurysm; he shelves it, but doesn't completely rule out the option of sending the tressym a covert message later and making the wizard drag Astarion back to Waterdeep for a few tendays. That said, that might get him broken up with??? Terrible. Everything sucks.

A bit more gentling. Iorveth crouches by Astarion in their alcove, and reaches out, carefully, to see if Astarion will be amenable to a palm against his (unbruised) cheek. Mindful of touching, still. ]

Every single elf that's ever spoken those words to me has died.

[ So, like. He wants Astarion to know why this isn't something he can accept easily, even if it touches him to hear it in Astarion's voice. Survivor's guilt, some might call it, but the term has always sounded so trite to him. ]

...But I suppose you're not "every other elf". [ A sigh, and he slides his hand down to rest on the crown of one bent knee. ]