[ Hm. Iorveth studies Astarion's profile for another moment, notes the continues restless picking at the countertop. It's the most anxious Iorveth has seen him since... well, not since Cazador. Even the Netherbrain wasn't cause for so much turmoil, or so Iorveth'd thought while all of that was happening. (Maybe they were all so hopped up from adrenaline that they hadn't had a moment to actually acknowledge how bonkers that entire thing was, though.)

A funny thing, wondering if Astarion is ready for all of this. Iorveth has never had to consider something like this before, since he's always had to do things, ready or not― but maybe it was a bit foolhardy to rush into this so quickly.

Another sip of wine. Tastes a bit sour, Iorveth thinks. Maybe the barkeep (wherever he went) keeps a stash of pre-opened bottles to serve to rowdy assholes whenever they want to appease them. Iorveth wrinkles his nose a bit, and moves Astarion's glass away from him to discourage drinking it. Again, it tastes a little... off, and gods know Iorveth doesn't want to spoil Astarion's mood further. ]

Depends on how Alkam treats his spawn, I suppose. [ Wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, Iorveth glances back towards the door. ] Though I have to wonder if that old crone already told his retinue about us.

[ It would explain why they have people after them already. Or maybe it was just their attitudes when they dropped in. Oops. ]