[ Iorveth is a killjoy. Astarion frowns, just slightly, at the unpredictability of their circumstances. How is he to know what an old lady would find interesting? (Crocheting supplies!) He retracts his hand and picks up his glass, swirling it and staring contemplatively into the dark pool of liquid. ]

What could be more interesting than a gift from a vampire? [ he asks, petulantly. Whatever he tries to trade should be eccentric enough given that it's coming from a creature of the night. Then again, their opponent in this bidding war happens to be a member of the undead, too. Thinking of that vampire lord and his letters to Cazador again drops his mood, and he shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. ]

Ugh. Worst case scenario, we kill her and rob her corpse.

[ Worst worst case scenario, Mrel Alkam does that before they get the chance to. ]