[ The dumbest quibble ever, and yet. Iorveth sighs through his teeth, irritation mounting, and rocks back onto his heels with his chin tipped up for a better vantage point despite their mostly-negligible difference in height. ]

I asked you if the ordeal gave you trouble, not to wax poetic about it.

[ But now he's thinking about Astarion with a pretty woman, and while it doesn't make him curdle the way a lead of a trash romance story might be expected to, it makes his shoulders set somewhat defensively. Annoyed, mostly because he feels like he's playing right into Astarion's hand. ]

But next time you come back with a bruised face, I could feign ignorance. Since you assume I "don't care".

[ Again, literally the dumbest quibble in the world. ]