[ Very adorable. Iorveth refrains from touching Astarion's hair while he's still using them to eat (no one wants cheese grease on their curls), but he nuzzles into that nestle, shifting to make that perch against his shoulder more comfortable.

(A few feet away, the two half-elf women flag the tired-looking gnome proprietor over and whisper something animatedly into his ear. The poor man looks even more exhausted, but nods and heads towards the kitchen.) ]

Your first time. [ He hums, voice low. ] An honor, that.

[ Without delving too deeply into why it would have been Astarion's first time. Also trying not to ruin the mood. ]

You were the only thing that made me feel safe that night. I didn't wish to confuse that safety for anything else.