[ Be patient, Iorveth tells himself. Astarion has suffered two hundred years of indignity; be patient, he tells himself again.
He tells himself, but doesn't manage it entirely. The last addendum is like sandpaper to someplace soft, and it twists Iorveth's expression into a frown. ]
Those "ingrate tree huggers" are the reason I am who I am now.
[ Delivered more coldly than Iorveth would've liked. He breathes through his teeth, aggravation sharpening his already-obvious edges. ]
...I adore you, you stupid cat. If you asked it of me, I would follow you to the edge of Toril to keep you safe.
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He tells himself, but doesn't manage it entirely. The last addendum is like sandpaper to someplace soft, and it twists Iorveth's expression into a frown. ]
Those "ingrate tree huggers" are the reason I am who I am now.
[ Delivered more coldly than Iorveth would've liked. He breathes through his teeth, aggravation sharpening his already-obvious edges. ]
...I adore you, you stupid cat. If you asked it of me, I would follow you to the edge of Toril to keep you safe.
[ A dry laugh, and a shake of his head. ]
But you don't see me clearly.