[ Credit where it's due (?), it's a good short-sightedness; one that speaks to Astarion's desire to live the most uncomplicated, indulgent life that he can. Perhaps he didn't let himself want even that, at some point.

But: ] I'm still a wanted elf, and you'll still be in danger from association for... [ A hum, under his breath. ] ...A century, yet. If complications up north persist.

[ Maybe not the best line of conversation to have in an apothecary. (The shopkeep looks visibly disturbed by 'wanted elf', which is Not Great.) Twining hands and forearms, Iorveth slowly leads Astarion back out into the twilight city, making sure to note if it looks like Astarion is having difficulty with the leg.

Once they're out of that specific earshot: ]

Damris has his ambitions already－ it reminded me that I wish to know if you have any of your own.