[ Very mean. Astarion gets up, too, downing what's left in his glass and setting it back on the table with a scowl. Mercurial as always, but he staunchly believes that at least some of his capriciousness is Iorveth's fault. It's amazing, really, how quickly Iorveth can take him from a smile to a frown (and then back again). Indefatigible flirt! Chronic windbag. He isn't sure who Iorveth is describing, but it cannot be him. A flirt, perhaps, but a charming one, and hardly a windbag — he had plenty to say, yes, but it was all of value! Like the time he told Gale that, honestly, purple isn't even really his color. Someone had to.
He stares Iorveth down, obviously displeased. How can someone who says such sweet things to him also describe him in such an unflattering way? ]
He sounds handsome.
[ If they have anything in common, it's probably that. ]
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He stares Iorveth down, obviously displeased. How can someone who says such sweet things to him also describe him in such an unflattering way? ]
He sounds handsome.
[ If they have anything in common, it's probably that. ]