[ Iorveth can smell the combined scent of vanilla and sandalwood on Astarion's skin, and the kick of serotonin that accompanies it is immeasurable. He'd said before that sometimes he just wants to swallow Astarion whole (metaphorically), and that's the dizzying feeling he gets now, pressed to Astarion's chest while the bards shift their playlist again to croon about spring breezes kissing lovers' cheeks. He really might kill them.

Taking Astarion's wrist, he kisses where the cologne sits heavy on his skin. ]

Mm. Kisses from you are surprisingly more appealing than murder.

[ Crazy! If he had to choose between killing a human for being an asshole and getting kisses from Astarion, he might actually beeline for the latter. ]

The bards will live to see another night, then. Let's go.