[ Astarion looks offended at the throwing knife, but softens when Iorveth tosses it aside. (Very polite of him. He could have been so much more dramatic. He almost died from that throwing knife... or he would've if Iorveth actually threw it.) Those invisible fox ears are just too cute to stay mad at. ]

Mm. It's filthy, stinky, and loud. [ A sigh. ] It reminds me of home.

[ Baldur's Gate, that is. Dirty and rowdy, replete with murderous cultists and rotten fish. Waterdeep is so much better in so many ways — cleaner, prettier, safer — but there's something about a slightly grimy city that feels more familiar. ]

It isn't half-bad, if you ignore the hags and vampire lords. [ Which he's been trying his best to do.

He removes his pack, opening it up to reach inside it. His fingers close around a small box inside, and then he suddenly reconsiders. Iorveth was poisoned yesterday. There's a hogtied man in their study. And there's purple everywhere.

It's not very romantic, is his point. He withdraws his hand, hugging the pack to his chest instead. ]

Do— [ He feels his face heat up even before asking the question. Gods, this is humiliating. ] Ah. Well, what I'm asking, I suppose, is... [ He hems and haws for a moment, ears growing steadily redder, and then finally says: ] Do the Aen Seidhe hold wedding ceremonies?