[ Astarion tilts his head for a moment, expression deliberately opaque. No one's ever been sorry for making him do something before. To be the recipient of someone's apology feels strange and vulnerable and he hasn't the slightest idea how to respond; habit would dictate spitting out something like I don't need your pity, but that doesn't feel quite right. His eyes glance up at Iorveth's face for a short-lived moment before they focus on his reddened wrists again, hands unspooling a long strip of bandage. ]

Just know that I'd never take pleasure in hurting you.

[ He wraps the bandage around Iorveth's wrist, tying it off with deft fingers before repeating the process on the other side. ]

At least, not in any way that you wouldn't find enjoyable, [ he adds, because Iorveth is a freak. ]