[ Of course he wants to be there for when Iorveth gets eaten. He plans to play the dashing, gallant knight for once in his life.

The shoulder nudge pacifies him somewhat, although an anxious energy still runs through his body as he glances toward the manse. Perhaps the servants fled, or perhaps his siblings released the spawn and they devoured them. He can't say he'd be sad if that were the case; Cazador's servants were idiots desperate for a 'gift' that they didn't understand. Still, it would be a problem for him if the spawn were ravenous enough to rip their way through the entirety of the palace staff. ]

Yes, they must have, [ he says, distantly, hoping that's the case. ]

[ He turns his attention back to Iorveth then, eyes drifting past the long line of his neck to the hollow of his clavicle. The stolen ring glints in the soft light of the street lanterns, and he reaches out to run his thumb over the smooth stone, mouth quirking up faintly. Despite the cold sense of foreboding permeating every inch of him, the sight of Iorveth wearing that ring makes him feel warm. ]

You look handsome.

[ Very much not the point right now, but necessary to say regardless. He tucks the ring underneath Iorveth's collar; he's sad to see it go, but he'd feel worse if the chain got broken in a scuffle. ]

I don't want anything to happen to it, [ he explains. ] Not when it flatters you so.