[ Iorveth takes one of the claw traps and repurposes it by disarming and placing it in a different spot, one more likely for less experienced wanderers to get their foot caught in. He hopes one of the soldiers gets their ankle torn off for their trouble.

Looking up from where he's crouched: ] You could, [ is a little petulant, as close to pouting about something as Iorveth can get. ] You could be tired of others crowding your space.

[ Then again, Iorveth would still let Astarion tie him up somewhere as long as the place they were staying was safe, so. Maybe he's being hypocritical. A huff, and he waves one hand, as if to chase the thought away (ow, says his burnt wrist). ]

Clearly, next time I should collapse on you without asking. [ Mean elf!!! ]