[ Halsin wishes. (He did. It was an awkward conversation. As a fellow wood elf, Iorveth kind of Got It, but he also did, in fact, tell Halsin to kindly fuck off.) But that's enough psychic bullying of Halsin for now, so－
－in a probably ill-advised move, Iorveth sits up to oblige the stupid request. It's not the most absurd thing he's done, at any rate, and he's not actually a prude despite thinking himself not much to look at.
The shirt peels off first: slowly, as requested, though it's half-intentional and half because it doesn't fit him very well. Too tight around the shoulders (Gale is not built like an archer). His torso ripples with the effort, and he has to wriggle a little to pull his head out of the collar without damaging the seams. He thinks it must look ridiculous and unsexy, but at least he's giving Astarion an eyeful of the tattoo－ he's rather proud of it.
After that, the pants. He sits on the edge of the mattress for this, extending each leg to pull the similarly ill-fitting garment off, following it with a light stretch forward, folding himself in half with his hands easily folding over his toes.
His smallclothes are an afterthought. Unfolding himself, he stands up and steps out of Gale's garish violet underwear, placing it in a wooden laundry basket with careless abandon. With that done, he turns back towards Astarion, head tipped and lips curved slightly upwards. ]
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[ Halsin wishes. (He did. It was an awkward conversation. As a fellow wood elf, Iorveth kind of Got It, but he also did, in fact, tell Halsin to kindly fuck off.) But that's enough psychic bullying of Halsin for now, so－
－in a probably ill-advised move, Iorveth sits up to oblige the stupid request. It's not the most absurd thing he's done, at any rate, and he's not actually a prude despite thinking himself not much to look at.
The shirt peels off first: slowly, as requested, though it's half-intentional and half because it doesn't fit him very well. Too tight around the shoulders (Gale is not built like an archer). His torso ripples with the effort, and he has to wriggle a little to pull his head out of the collar without damaging the seams. He thinks it must look ridiculous and unsexy, but at least he's giving Astarion an eyeful of the tattoo－ he's rather proud of it.
After that, the pants. He sits on the edge of the mattress for this, extending each leg to pull the similarly ill-fitting garment off, following it with a light stretch forward, folding himself in half with his hands easily folding over his toes.
His smallclothes are an afterthought. Unfolding himself, he stands up and steps out of Gale's garish violet underwear, placing it in a wooden laundry basket with careless abandon. With that done, he turns back towards Astarion, head tipped and lips curved slightly upwards. ]
Well?