[ A full-bodied softening, as he glances towards Astarion again. Night and day in demeanor, though he remains as straight-backed as ever. ]

I would. [ He hums, regarding the begging. A jarring shift in tone, incredibly inappropriate given they were just speaking on the subject in terms of making a dead man plead for his life. ] You'd just need to use that clever mind of yours to think of how you could make me.

[ It would actually be incredibly easy, but Iorveth won't give up the method that easily.

That said, the more important matter of his bow. One of them does have it (the one with Astarion's pack－ he must've gotten dibs on trophies), and so Iorveth divests him of it and straps it back across his shoulderblades. A familiar, comforting weight. ]

We should cycle back to their camp. The rest of our belongings are likely being kept there.