[ A stale-smelling bag flies off of the table Iorveth had kicked and lands on Astarion's boot. He kicks it away, wrinkling his nose, as he follows behind Iorveth. Although Akabi's garbage doesn't bother him overmuch, he's happy to be rid of the circus regardless. The streets of Baldur's Gate are dimly lit by lanterns, and the crowds out on the streets are largely more peaceful than those in the daytime, save for the unruly citizens loitering around the taverns. ]
You're lovely when you're surly, but you needn't be too sour.
[ He reaches over, running through Iorveth's damp hair with his fingers. ]
The slicked-back look quite suits you.
[ Half-tease, half-compliment. He does enjoy Iorveth's hair out of his face. ]
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You're lovely when you're surly, but you needn't be too sour.
[ He reaches over, running through Iorveth's damp hair with his fingers. ]
The slicked-back look quite suits you.
[ Half-tease, half-compliment. He does enjoy Iorveth's hair out of his face. ]