[ Astarion sputters. Of course Iorveth would suggest such a thing. He is, after all, deranged. Astarion usually loves Iorveth's derangement, but this time is— ridiculous. Reckless even by his standards. His hand closes tightly around Iorveth's wrist, and he shakes his head. ]

Are you mad, walking into a hag's den and stealing from her? If she discovered you, she'd disintegrate you. Or bake you into a pie.

[ Or whatever hags do. He isn't particularly knowledgeable about them, aside from knowing that whatever this creature could do to Iorveth is unthinkably awful. Astarion can barely tolerate the thought of Iorveth stubbing his toe. ]

Besides, if anyone should break into her lair...

[ He swallows, uncertain. ]

I suppose it should be me. I am a rather accomplished thief. And, besides, she might have her precious cloaks behind a lock.