[ Astarion owes that cloak the rest of his life, and he's still calling it ugly. Iorveth blinks, then mirrors Astarion's previous laugh with one of his own, surprised and honest in a way he never is around anyone else. ]
It is the ugliest thing you've ever allowed on your body.
[ Pulling his hand out of Astarion's pants, Iorveth picks at the end of the offending cloak with a thumb and forefinger. A very unflattering reddish blue-purple (an impossible combination of colors), held together with cheap-looking white string. ]
A pity Dragomir had no taste. [ Finally peeling himself away from Astarion to get up, even if his entire body protests it; not to mention that it's very uncomfortable being upright with the current state of his boner, but he'll live. ] ...Inside, then.
[ Offering Astarion a hand. Still looking at him like he's the most beautiful thing Iorveth's ever seen, even in the ugly cloak and his ill-fitting pajamas. ]
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It is the ugliest thing you've ever allowed on your body.
[ Pulling his hand out of Astarion's pants, Iorveth picks at the end of the offending cloak with a thumb and forefinger. A very unflattering reddish blue-purple (an impossible combination of colors), held together with cheap-looking white string. ]
A pity Dragomir had no taste. [ Finally peeling himself away from Astarion to get up, even if his entire body protests it; not to mention that it's very uncomfortable being upright with the current state of his boner, but he'll live. ] ...Inside, then.
[ Offering Astarion a hand. Still looking at him like he's the most beautiful thing Iorveth's ever seen, even in the ugly cloak and his ill-fitting pajamas. ]