[ The very picture of recklessness, maybe. They have that in common, when push comes to shove― Iorveth's overplanning and Astarion's underplanning, culminating ultimately into 'fuck it, we ball'.

No one here is sane. Which is why Iorveth huffs, fond, and steps back. ]

I'd hold your victim's hands behind their back while you feed, if it'd make things easier for you.

[ Lest Astarion forget that Iorveth is deranged, and that he really would do anything for the man who he'll eventually share a family name with (seven hells). He smiles, wry and cocky, and tips his head. ]

So, no. I wouldn't hate it. Unless you tell me afterwards that they taste better than me.

[ Which would make Iorveth huffy. Self-awareness! ]