[ Most of Astarion's affection is out of a genuine desire—or urge, or perhaps need—to be as close to Iorveth as he can, but a small part of it is performative. He enjoys showing off, proving to the world that he has someone who loves him, someone who cares. That's why he catches the shopkeep's exhausted eyes (he can't ever catch a break; just last tenday some irritating wizard came in and started questioning if his fleshwort was ethically sourced) and presses a kiss to Iorveth's cheek. ]

You know how I feel about rules.

[ Not a fan. Two hundred years of having to follow far too many, and now he'd rather follow none at all.

Another sigh. ]

But I'd prefer to be in my most athletic shape the next time we, ah, canoodle, so perhaps it's for the best that you attempt to control your wild, lustful urges.