[ The copper tang of blood, the woody scent of the oil polish that he uses for his bow, and the amber warmth of sandalwood. Iorveth had mentioned before that he wants Astarion to have Iorveth's scent on his collar, and so he takes advantage of their proximity now, nestling close to make good on his promise.

A low exhale, and he cranes his neck backwards to get a glimpse of that pretty face. The least interesting thing about Astarion by a good mile, but still annoyingly captivating. ]

An unexpectedly Halsin thing for you to say.

[ His tone is dry, but Astarion should be able to hear the affection laced in there; it's the way he lilts a little, more melodic than usual, leaning towards how he speaks his native language. A sign of comfort and trust. ]

I could oblige you within these four walls, but... [ He laughs, because that's apparently the running theme of the day. ] ...Mm, what did it say in Waterdeep's Code Legal?

Imprisonment up to a tenday for brandishing weapons without due cause?

[ Stupid. The most unserious thing Iorveth has said all day. ]