[ Iorveth gets ready to stick a man's head in the river, and Astarion basks in the undivided attention of two very pretty women. What? It's not like he's married. He takes the glass, giving it a cursory sniff. It smells a little odd, but so do most food and drinks since he clawed his way out of his grave. Hard to say if it's 'poison' odd or just regular odd.
Oh, well. He takes a sip. No one ever accused him of being prudent.
He launches into an entirely fabricated story that's dangerously close to the adventures of Nicholas and Edgar, albeit with some key details changed. He isn't a prince so much as, well, a very important magistrate—no one ever accused him of being creative, either—and Iorveth isn't so much an assassin as a hunky rapscallion with a heart of gold. The rest, though, follows the beats of the novel perfectly, sex scenes included.
Another sip. ] But I'd really rather hear about you. Any important customers? Like, oh, I don't know, that Commandant everyone keeps going on about? One has to wonder what he asks for.
no subject
Oh, well. He takes a sip. No one ever accused him of being prudent.
He launches into an entirely fabricated story that's dangerously close to the adventures of Nicholas and Edgar, albeit with some key details changed. He isn't a prince so much as, well, a very important magistrate—no one ever accused him of being creative, either—and Iorveth isn't so much an assassin as a hunky rapscallion with a heart of gold. The rest, though, follows the beats of the novel perfectly, sex scenes included.
Another sip. ] But I'd really rather hear about you. Any important customers? Like, oh, I don't know, that Commandant everyone keeps going on about? One has to wonder what he asks for.