[ Gale relinquishes his hold on Iorveth once he's sure that the deranged elf won't turn around and try to slit the cleric's throat, and that's Iorveth's cue to shove away and slide closer to Astarion, trousers in tow to pull them back on and over long legs. The bruised one is still noticeably more swollen than the other, presumably still sore and uncomfortable; it conjures the sound of Astarion's scream again, deepening the frown-crease between Iorveth's brows.
Reginald, still chipper: "I'll be back again tomorrow to make sure everything's settling alright with the leg." Then, he glances towards Iorveth. "As for you..."
Migraine-wracked, face cut, hand bleeding, Iorveth looks every bit like a rabid fox. If he had fuzzy triangular ears, they would be sitting flat against his head, fur on end and hackles raised. ]
I don't require your help, [ he says with furious obstinacy, even though it really would be prudent to let Reginald tend to him. Iorveth is grateful, of course, that the cleric came all this way to heal Astarion in the only way that was likely available, but he's still furious that the halfling was so flippant about Astarion's pain. ]
no subject
Reginald, still chipper: "I'll be back again tomorrow to make sure everything's settling alright with the leg." Then, he glances towards Iorveth. "As for you..."
Migraine-wracked, face cut, hand bleeding, Iorveth looks every bit like a rabid fox. If he had fuzzy triangular ears, they would be sitting flat against his head, fur on end and hackles raised. ]
I don't require your help, [ he says with furious obstinacy, even though it really would be prudent to let Reginald tend to him. Iorveth is grateful, of course, that the cleric came all this way to heal Astarion in the only way that was likely available, but he's still furious that the halfling was so flippant about Astarion's pain. ]