[ Astarion pops into the study behind Iorveth, a silver head peeking out from the doorway. ]

Oh, [ he says, cocking his head as if he's just thought of this: ] We should probably keep our distance from the Scepter District tonight.

[ His eyes drop to the tiefling still groaning through his gag on the floor. He still doesn't have the desire to take Damris under his wing. Foisting him off on Petras would be as much a favor for himself as for Damris; being around someone who poisoned Iorveth for longer than strictly necessary would drive him to madness. Or at least rudeness. ]

His lover boy has been asking about him.