Of course I do, [ he says, chin pointed up haughtily. In actuality, he's not so certain he even looks halfway decent, but hopefully his disheveled state will appeal to Gale's sense of compassion.

He presses the switch, and the melodious sound of chimes comes from inside the tower. Another impatient press, and another, and soon it's less melodious and more cacophonous. Astarion can hear the faint sound of Gale's grumbling from inside, and although he can't quite make out the words, the tone of them suggests curse words. After a long moment, the double doors open to reveal the familiar form of Gale, dressed in silk nightclothes and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Astarion takes private pleasure in the fact that his hair looks a mess.

Gale does a double-take upon seeing the unexpected elves at his door. "—Astarion?" he croaks out, voice scratchy from sleep. "Iorveth? What in blazes are you two doing at my doorstep at" —he squints— "what appears to be the crack of dawn?" ]

Excellent question, really, and I'd love to discuss it inside, if you'd be so kind as to invite us in—

[ Gale, perpetually not getting the memo, tilts his head at Iorveth. "What happened to your shirt?" ]