[ A rather glum topic of conversation. Iorveth still remembers Astarion's accusations about him being depressing, so he sets the lingering concerns about monsters with sharp teeth aside to ponder on his own time.

Now: ] Chivalrous of you. [ Another thing Iorveth remembers Astarion saying: that Astarion wants to protect him. He could scoff at the notion of it and brush it aside as nonsense― "do I look like a man that needs protecting"― but far be it for him to invalidate Astarion's feelings on the matter, or to imply that he doesn't trust Astarion to be able to protect him if push came to shove.

A soft exhale, and Iorveth cranes his neck to press his lips to Astarion's hair. ]

I've already been ensnared by one red-eyed beauty― doubtful, that I'd let another come close enough to bite.