[ He wonders, briefly, what privacy is available with the Aen Seidhe. They seem a communal bunch. Oh, well — he supposes he can always drag Iorveth away to do it on the forest floor.

As much as he'd like to stay lying here nuzzled by a warm, half-naked Iorveth, that soft sound catches his attention. Gods, if it's Gale pretending he didn't hear anything, Astarion will kill him for ruining the moment. They really do need a separate room. Then again, Iorveth is right: they'd never get anything done, not that Astarion sees that as an issue. They have a whole troupe of others who can carry out Lae'zel's commands. After two centuries of misery, he'd rather bask in happiness as long as he can. ]

My dear, [ he says, hand still stroking idly over Iorveth's tattoo, ] you might want to put your trousers back on.

[ A loss for Astarion, to be sure. He'd rather ask him to take more off. ]

I'd hate for Halsin to see you like this. He might ask to join.

[ And although he'd said he wouldn't mind if Iorveth wanted to sow his wild oats, he'd rather not witness it. ]