[ Astarion reaches out to rub Iorveth's shoulder soothingly, staring up at the eccentric building behind him. It does seem the sort of place that a strange old woman might reside; he feels a pang of nervousness run through his body again. It really is time to face the music, he supposes. No way around it.

Unless: ] Ah, it looks like the place is closed for the evening. Perhaps we should return another time.

[ He's become quite the expert at avoiding things that make him feel even a little bit unpleasant. The idea of begging some old woman for the cloak makes him feel nervous, and so— avoidance. Procrastination. Putting it off until it's a problem for Future Astarion. ]

Honestly, she's probably not even home.

[ As if on cue, a shadow passes behind the curtain again. ]