[ A certainty. Astarion melts into his seat a little bit, a boneless pile of happiness. He suddenly wishes Gale weren't around, so that he could kiss Iorveth some more. Not that public displays of affection are a concern of his, really, but he imagines the sort of kissing he'd like to do would draw a reaction from Gale.

He tunes out most of what happens after that, a cartoon character with hearts for eyes, until he hears Tara's voice calling out. Coming to, he rolls his eyes at the assertion that they 'strongarm' Gale into anything. He's perfectly willing! It's not Astarion's fault that he's so easily manipulated by an attaboy. ]

We're only inviting him to our wedding, that's all, [ Astarion calls back, then adds, ] where pets shall not be allowed.

[ "Come now, Astarion, Tara is hardly a pet," Gale chides. ]

Well, we'll figure out the particulars later. [ Again: not a details person. ] It's all rather new. And, quite frankly, I haven't fantasized about a wedding since I was twelve.