[ Reginald is working on Iorveth's head now, humming under his breath as he combs through Iorveth's hair (which I now have an actual reference for, thank you CDPR concept artists) with his glowing fingers, easing some of the pressure and the grinding headache post-concussion. It's a strange feeling, not unlike the tadpole squirming in his skull; Iorveth'd laugh about Astarion's snide comment, but the healing to his brain makes him list forward against the cleric's front, limp and boneless.
Reginald, meanwhile, as chipper as ever, offers: "oh, me and my wife have quite the robust relationship! She travels often, but sometimes absence makes the heart fonder, if you know what I mean."
Wink wink, nudge nudge. "Master Reginald!", Gale gasps this time around. ]
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Reginald, meanwhile, as chipper as ever, offers: "oh, me and my wife have quite the robust relationship! She travels often, but sometimes absence makes the heart fonder, if you know what I mean."
Wink wink, nudge nudge. "Master Reginald!", Gale gasps this time around. ]