[ Ah. Not dead, just heavily sedated. Well, that's fine by him. He only worries about what will happen when the sedation wears off. Like he said: vampire spawn are crafty. Iorveth has trussed him up very well, but if they don't kill him, they'll have to let him out eventually, and Astarion can't picture him being grateful.

A bridge he'll cross when he gets to it! Iorveth is the planner, not him. He peeks in dressed in, yes, the periwinkle robe. Not exactly his color, but he likes to think that he can pull anything off. ]

Oh, gods. So dramatic. [ He rolls his eyes. ] It's not like you haven't had worse.

[ Meanwhile, Astarion was tortured for two hundred years and would still throw a tantrum over a stubbed toe. ]

Oh! [ As if he's just thought of something. ] You should have asked him what his favorite flowers were, darling. [ Waving a hand: ] Eh. I'll just say roses.