[ Astarion grins, delighted, and perches on the edge of Gale's fancy bathtub to watch Iorveth rummage through toiletries, legs stretched out lazily. He could help the search, but that's not really his thing; he's more of a 'stand around looking good and contributing nothing' type. Besides, how hard can it be? There's no way that a man as cosmopolitan as Gale doesn't have a collection of expensive bath oils somewhere.

Instead of helping, he picks up what seems to be a bottle of luxury hair product. He knew Gale's hair didn't just naturally do that. ]

Ugh, it would be just horrible, [ he says with a dramatic sigh, ] if a handsome and deranged wood elf were to ravish me right now.

[ Impatient, he tosses the bottle aside, leaning to the side and letting his shoulder hit the wall. ]

Especially when I'm so very ripe for the ravishing.

[ Delayed gratification, as it turns out, is also not his thing. ]