[ Poor Iorveth. A spawn who doesn't pay him any mind, and a boyfriend who's too paranoid to look at him twice. When they enter, Astarion locks the door behind him, eyes searching the room for something suitable to tie someone up with. Gods, it's not like he travels with rope. They haven't gotten that kinky.

He finally positions himself behind Iorveth's armchair, leaning on the back, subconsciously hiding behind Iorveth like a frightened child. ]

No, I imagine you don't. Just you.

[ A moment passes, and then he groans, exasperated. ]

—Ugh, this is going to take forever! Just spit it out, why don't you? You're a vampire, obviously.