[ A legitimate question, but exhausting all the same. Iorveth, head still in the process of screwing itself back straight, nevertheless grinds himself into a familiar mold: a leader and a survivalist. Efficient and graceful and proud, despite the fact that he looks like utter shit. ]

Our journey for the cloak proved more complex than we'd initially assumed.

[ Which isn't an answer as to why there's blood all over the sitting room, but it's a start. Straight-backed and measured, he leads Astarion to the nearest chair and bids him to sit, allowing Gale to break concentration (he was going to break it anyway, with all the goggling and gaping he's doing right now). ]

The fact that we called you here earlier than intended should speak volumes. Our first priority is leaving this cursed city－ we'll speak more candidly when we're back in Waterdeep.

[ A beat. ]

I don't suppose you could... [ Waving one hand in a careless gesture: ] ...Clean all of this up.

[ Gods, he hasn't even gotten to the trussed-up tiefling in the other room. Again, exhausting. ]