[ Astarion turns pink again. It's one thing to dance around it in an argument, but it's quite another to speak directly about it. He feels a little embarrassed. Awkward. Certainly like his inexperience is showing. He lets his gaze stay strictly in front of him, and not to his side where Iorveth walks. ]

I suppose the Aen Seidhe don't really— wood elves seem to be the free love type.

[ He's not sure if Iorveth's people even have things like commitment. Maybe they all believe each of them belongs to every one of them and none of them at the same time, or some communal, nature-loving nonsense like that. Admittedly, his knowledge of wood elf culture still rests primarily on Halsin, who probably only wants to put a ring on, ah, other appendages. ]

—It isn't like I expect you to say anything in front of a cleric. You know how I feel about the gods.