[ The attention with which Iorveth arranges his hair is adorable, and Astarion finds himself feeling warm and fuzzy all over again. He once told Iorveth that this sort of feeling churned his stomach. Too tender, too special. Like holding a small baby bird in his palm. Unaccustomed to gentleness as he was, he was always too afraid that he was going to crush it in his hand. He's not so afraid anymore.
Still, he throws his head back, ruining all of Iorveth's hard work as he slides down into the covers. ]
My siblings? [ With the biggest, saddest eyes: ] You want me to talk to Petras?
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Still, he throws his head back, ruining all of Iorveth's hard work as he slides down into the covers. ]
My siblings? [ With the biggest, saddest eyes: ] You want me to talk to Petras?
[ That is so mean, Iorveth. Don't you love him? ]