[ Astarion's eyes dart to Iorveth's hand, resting on the hilt of his sword, and then back up to his face, questioning. Everyone seems suspicious and untrustworthy to him, so it's difficult to tell if there's really any credence to the feeling, but if Iorveth feels it, then he supposes there must be something to it. ]

We're already down one eye, so I'm afraid I'll have to pass.

[ With a cant of his head toward the jarred eyeball: ]

Besides, it looks like you already have plenty.

[ But the knowledge that others have come asking about the cloak already puts the pressure on. He glances back to the wardrobe, fingertips pressed against the glass surface. ]

—But we're quite adept at odd jobs. What sort of favor did you have in mind? Mm, picking up groceries, perhaps, or doing the laundry?

[ One can hope. ]