[ The mere words go to Waterdeep make him scowl. As if he'd spend, what, whole tendays drinking tea with Gale and listening to him natter on about how he's rebuilding his life in the city while Iorveth sets out to kill an important man. Gods! Even the fact that Iorveth thought of it is offensive.
He softens when Iorveth says come with me, mollified by the knowledge that Iorveth isn't casting him away like garbage while he does more important things. It isn't that Astarion particularly wants to travel to Flotsam and search for this man—it sounds like hard work, which he isn't a fan of—but he can't bear the thought of Iorveth in enemy territory, unprotected. Again, love is so very problematic.
Astarion watches Iorveth falter, then turn away. It's habit to touch Iorveth's wrist or his hand, but he settles on letting his fingertips graze between Iorveth's shoulder blades instead. ]
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He softens when Iorveth says come with me, mollified by the knowledge that Iorveth isn't casting him away like garbage while he does more important things. It isn't that Astarion particularly wants to travel to Flotsam and search for this man—it sounds like hard work, which he isn't a fan of—but he can't bear the thought of Iorveth in enemy territory, unprotected. Again, love is so very problematic.
Astarion watches Iorveth falter, then turn away. It's habit to touch Iorveth's wrist or his hand, but he settles on letting his fingertips graze between Iorveth's shoulder blades instead. ]
Is everything all right?