[ Oh, of course Astarion had to bring up the ring thing now. It's like being hit in the head with a hammer, and it'd cripple Iorveth if he thinks too deeply about it now (holy shit), so―

―mental pivot. He's not sure what the heat between his ribs is, if it hurts or if it's pleasant, but it's there.

Another lingering moment later, an admission: ] You've been clear. [ Again, Astarion isn't to blame for unresolved personal neuroses. It's humbling to know that he has more of them than he'd previously catalogued. Hells. ]

Very clear. To the point where I have to feign maturity to cope with how much I've come to need you.

[ Exhibit A: all of This Bullshit. Iorveth lifts the hand that's been tracing the bench, waving it for emphasis. ]