[ Ha. Astarion can't find it in himself to be outraged at the idea that Iorveth would kill his potential suitors, because, well, he'd do the same. (Maybe not kill. He's turned over a new leaf. He'd just threaten, or maim. Growth!) He laughs under his breath, quiet and subdued, two words which rarely apply to him. ]

As you know, I'm an indefatigible flirt and a chronic windbag, so I suppose we all have our flaws.

[ Astarion is far from perfect -- 'difficult' and 'jagged', just as Iorveth is. He reaches out to place his hand on Iorveth's again, fingers working their way between Iorveth's.

A little commanding, albeit not without affection: ] Don't ask me to go again, darling, not unless you really mean it.

[ And if he does really mean it, then -- Astarion will deal with it when the time comes. ]