[ Astarion appreciates the weight of their gifted coin purse for a moment--upsides to having a wealthy ex-archwizard as a friend--before reaching out and placing it back in Iorveth's pack. If Athkatla is anything like Baldur's Gate, it's for the best that they don't openly carry around anything that could make them a target for thieves. (Astarion would know, because he was one of those thieves.)

Once the pouch is safely tucked away, he links their arms again. For the sake of it, of course, but also so that Iorveth doesn't begin to feel overwhelmed and adrift in the hustle and bustle of Athkatla in the evening. It's grounding him the only way Astarion knows how to. ]

The marks are fading, [ he observes, peering at Iorveth's throat, ] and I'll need a stencil to follow, you know.

[ An excuse, mostly. ]

I'll have to bite you again. [ With a sigh: ] A trial, but I'll do it.