Hope, [ Astarion echoes, shaking his head, before reaching over to stop Iorveth from what will almost certainly kill him. Or, you know, at least sprain something. Instead, he slings one of Damris's arms across Iorveth's shoulders and one around his own, so that they can carry him side-by-side like a passed-out drunk and not someone that they just poisoned. Yet again, he's willing to do manual labor only for Iorveth. ]

That isn't a concept I would have entertained before you, you know.

[ He detests the idea of bringing Damris back to their sanctum, but he hates the idea of him running to Alkam before they're ready more. No life-affirming intimacy tonight, he supposes, with a tiefling-shaped cockblock tied up in the other room. ]

Ugh. [ Astarion shifts, repositioning himself (and Damris). ] Couldn't he have been a halfling?