[ Astarion stalks behind the two of them, hardly light-footed in his fatigue but somehow still unnoticeable to the drunk idiot who thinks he's about to have a wild I fucked a wood elf story to tell all of his friends. As he pushes Iorveth onto the couch, he hikes up the tunic and exclaims with glee, "Just how far down does this tattoo go?"
He shuts the door behind him. Breakfast jumps at the sound, startled, turning around to see Astarion standing there ominously in the doorway like some grim specter of death. Pale white, sunken eyes, a murderous expression.
"Fuck!" is more shock than fear, too much alcohol running through the man's system for him to realize what's about to happen. "What is this, your roommate?" ]
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He shuts the door behind him. Breakfast jumps at the sound, startled, turning around to see Astarion standing there ominously in the doorway like some grim specter of death. Pale white, sunken eyes, a murderous expression.
"Fuck!" is more shock than fear, too much alcohol running through the man's system for him to realize what's about to happen. "What is this, your roommate?" ]