[ The sight makes Astarion feel sick, too, albeit not for the same reasons. The guard is clearly besotted, fooled by this Damris's charm. If only he knew Damris was a wretched slave to a worse master, the guard would surely be disgusted. (He thinks, not projecting at all.)

Adorable, [ he spits out, Iorveth still hanging off of him like... well, like a man dying. Not everything needs a simile.

"Oh," the guard says, a little taken aback by Astarion's rudeness. "Damris, who is this with you?" ]

Gods! Must we all make small talk? I have places to be.

[ He gestures to Iorveth, pallid and weak. ]

Unless you have an antidote for poison, we've nothing to talk about.

[ "A-an antidote for poison?" The guard's eyes flick to Damris, confusion evident. "You must tell me who the culprit is. I'll apprehend them." ]