[ It rankles somewhat, being referred to as food or toys, but Iorveth lets Astarion handle the brunt of the conversation after his input is summarily shut down by Petras. Astarion seems to have the matter under control, and more importantly, Petras is his sibling to chide and decide the fate of. He'd know how to speak to him better than Iorveth does.

So, when Iorveth finally opens his mouth again, it's to address Astarion. Situated beside him in the dim of this mostly-unlighted spot of circus, he tries to read his companion's expression. ]

Thousands of starving new friends. [ Gaunt and haunted, ready to sink their teeth into the nearest living creature with a pulse. ] I have no love for this city, but it would be calamitous if Cazador's victims found their freedom here.

[ Petras twists his expression into what looks like a contemptuous sneer, but it's obvious that the idea of freedom is finally sinking in: he glances over his shoulder in the direction of the prison he'd been confined to for all these decades, and his face falls. The sneer fades, replaced by prolonged and involuntary confusion. Like he's at a complete loss as to what to do with all of this information.

"I'll... have to find our other brothers and sisters," he mutters. ]