[ He wants to mope and feel bad, because wallowing in his unhappiness is a learned habit by now, but it's very difficult to do so with Iorveth's touch on his face. Astarion glances up, red eyes easy to mistake for a simple warm brown in this light. ]

I like your attitude.

[ Astarion likes everything about Iorveth — except for the things that he doesn't, which eventually become the topic of whichever blow-up argument they're having at any given time. No two people on Toril are less compatible in their base ideologies. It's a miracle, really, that they didn't kill each other before they ever got the chance to like each other. ]

It was a man, [ he admits. ] He catcalled a woman on the street. [ Astarion makes a face, lip curling. He can't quite verbalize why, but he'd felt viscerally disgusted. ] I thought the world might be better off without him, anyway.