Yes, Gale. Why don't you go inhabit yourself in private?

[ "I— that is not—" Gale stammers for a moment, effectively bullied by two mean elves. He finally stalks off, slippers flopping, muttering about how if they'd only seen him during his Academy days, they'd be shocked— ]

I don't see what that tressym is so upset about. She doesn't wear any clothes, either.

[ Astarion shrugs as he leans against the doorway, looking like the cat that ate the canary. With a cant of his head toward the towel pressed against Iorveth's front: ]

Go ahead, then. Drop the towel and do a dance.