[ The content of the words are as important as the person delivering them, so it stands to reason that Iorveth likes how the phrase sounds when Astarion says it: slightly off-key, like a lute that needs tuning. More than a little smitten, he presses Astarion into his still-bruised neck (the puncture wounds have stopped bleeding, but a little nibble would start the flow up again) and nips at the tip of his ear. ]

I'll fill my head with dirty thoughts of you for inspiration, then.

[ A joke. (Unless...?) Iorveth cocoons them both in soft blankets (wrinkled from all the moving and grinding they did earlier), and closes his eye. ]

...Gale will come asking after you in a few hours. Best to get some rest before he sweeps you off your feet.

[ Iorveth can actually make himself useful and look into Athkatla, a den of greed and excess and coin. It seems to be the sort of place where cambions like Mizora would sell elixirs of life for the right price; another House of Hope-style heist might be in their future. That coupled with needing to procure the day-walking cloak promises a lot of unhinged planning on Iorveth's part, but it's what he does best. Logistics, contingencies, and courage. ]