[ Iorveth reaches sideways towards the bedside dresser, and stops himself just before he accidentally uses their precious daywalking cloak as a handtowel. Crisis averted. He picks up one of the cloths he uses to clean his sword instead (he'll get a new one), and moves to gingerly wipe Astarion's hand after he tidies his own.

With that done: mandatory cuddling. Fingers comb through silver hair in a show of casual doting, interrupted by occasional rubs behind one pointed ear. ]

I'd thought we could detour to Baldur's Gate once more, before heading north. [ A lot of heavy lifting on Gale's part, having to portal them back and forth. It's that or camping again, and Iorveth is fairly certain that Astarion will want to choose the convenient option over sleeping on bedrolls on hard dirt. ] Perhaps we could extort the Duke for our marriage funds.

[ Things Iorveth has said to Wyll: "hey, your father fucking sucks and we shouldn't help him." Wyll wasn't pleased, to say the least. ]