[ Definitely a lot to ask. Iorveth stops mid-motion, a handful of paces away from a cart selling what looks to be questionable potions at questionable prices, and turns towards Astarion with furrowed brows and a downturned mouth. ]

You would resent it if I asked the same of you.

[ Like, Iorveth could just say that he agrees and ignore the would-be promise entirely, but that isn't in his nature; he hates lying, and he hates lying to Astarion most of all. ]

I've already told you that I wouldn't be able to bear it if anything happened to you. It would be worse if I knew that I left you to be hurt while I saved myself.

[ Honestly, he would rather die. Not the outcome that Astarion wants, Iorveth knows. ]