Oh, dear, I'm so sorry for him, [ says Astarion, pack closed over the foul hand now. He pops up next to Iorveth like he's been there the whole time, smile contrite. ] He hasn't been right in the mind since that horse kicked him in the head.

[ "Nasty elf!" Popper shouts, distressed as it crouches to pick up fragments of broken glass. "Horse shoulds have kicked you harder!" ]

Isn't that the truth! Don't you worry. I'll give him a talking to.

[ Astarion doesn't so much as pull on Iorveth's sleeve as yank it, scurrying away as quickly as his legs will take him. He doesn't fear a kobold of all things, even a loud and obnoxious one, but Lae'zel would be furious if they got kicked out of the circus before they could fulfill her mission, and the last thing he wants is to sit through one of her tirades.

Even after they've made it a distance away, he can still hear the muffled sound of Popper complaining about a "horrible, awful mans". He snorts before pressing the pack to Iorveth's chest, eager to get any clown body parts out of his possession. ]

You owe me, you know. I don't think I'll ever feel clean again.