[ Sneaky vampire, not having to breathe. When he feels fingers along his back, Iorveth feels his second surprising tremor of the night, another reminder that his reality has shifted drastically due to Astarion's existence; the brief flashbang-fear he feels when he thinks of anything happening to someone he values more than himself is new, not quite unlike the despair he'd felt as he knelt in mud with his hands bound, listening to humans kill his comrades one by one.

More intense. Terrifying. It's not the time to let himself float in those feelings, though, so he keeps his chin tipped up, imperious and proud, appraising the hag in front of him (still disguised as a human, her skin stretched and folded in odd places). ]

I'm not here for a garment. I'm here for a reason I didn't want my beloved to hear. [ Calmly, without much inflection. No trace of sheepishness for someone who's here to barter with a creature far more powerful than he is; the hag smiles, showing crooked, stained teeth.

Iorveth swallows his revulsion; it occurs to him that he forgot to cast 'Pass Without Trace' on Astarion, and he curses himself internally as he quickly notes all the breakables in the area. Organs floating in jars, dolls whose eyes seem to shift with the movement in the room. Did Astarion bring a pack big enough to fit a stack of clothes in it? Gods, why haven't they found a Bag of Holding yet?

Thoughts swimming, Iorveth lets none of it show on his face. Still placid, confident, he finally offers: ] I've heard you're not what you seem. If I bargain with you, you may yet make my wishes come true.

[ Drawing it out. Buying time, hopefully, for Astarion to stay calm and do what he needs. ]