[ The mysterious and stupider possible third option: Damris panicked and outed himself and Astarion as vampires in some prey-animal outburst the night prior, but there's no way of knowing for sure. Iorveth doesn't press the issue, as much as he'd like to shove Reginald against the wall and demand he keep his chattering little mouth shut.

A flash of murder in that single moss-green eye again, before it abates; Iorveth would like to keep Gale as a friend. He waves the cleric away, rather forcefully creating more distance between the halfling and the bed with a push against his shoulder. ]

Go, [ he says, curt. ] You're already seen my love in smallclothes once, and I'll not allow it again.

[ Voyeur! Hmph. Reginald shrugs, and hops back to where poor Gale is questioning every decision he's made over the past two tendays. "Come lad, we'll check on the trembling tiefling," he chirps, and leaves as quickly as he came. A halfling-shaped storm.

Iorveth sighs. ] I wonder if Gale limits his company to eccentric elders who've lost their minds. [ Elminster, Reginald. ]