[ Twin bandages on both wrists: almost an aesthetic, if he wasn't actually injured. Iorveth waits until Astarion finishes to test how everything feels, flexing fingers and slowly turning his hand around a few times to gauge his range of motion. ]

You know me too well.

[ Regarding Iorveth's potential to enjoy a little punishment now and again. Less about the pain and more to do with having someone he can entrust himself with so fully, but now is probably not the time to start negotiating kinks.

Instead, he closes his eye. Slumps against Astarion's side, the way he promised he would. ]

I don't deserve you. [ Tired and angry to the point of near-numbness; he still can't believe Astarion hasn't run screaming for the hills. His voice is low, dry. ] ―Mm. No one deserves you.

[ Everyone belongs to themselves, etc. With that correction out of the way: ] ...We'll start moving again at nightfall. If we move fast, we should arrive at Flotsam before sunrise― they won't welcome wood elves warmly, but they'll be more lenient towards high elves. You won't have a problem finding a room at an inn.