[ Down bad, Astarion thinks, and Iorveth mirrors the sentiment by boggling about how smitten he is. All it takes is for Astarion to look animated and enthused about anything at all for Iorveth to ensure that it happens; the worst thing in the world is giving his love false hope and seeing it pulled out from under him. Rational, sane people may argue that it's neither possible nor healthy to try to shield one person from all the world's ills, but damn if Iorveth won't try. ]

Anything, as long as it's not purple.

[ He huffs, a half-laugh as he takes Astarion's burned hand and tries to cast another round of Cure Wounds on it. It still doesn't help much at all, which is frustrating― as a consolation prize, he kisses the unburnt wrist and noses at it gently. ]

I've knowledge of many things, but fashion isn't one of them. You're free to dress me however you please for the occasion. [ Famous last words. ] ...Though I insist on embroidering one thing on whatever you choose to wear.