[ A sturdy-set gnome woman with half a dozen cats doesn't exactly scream "underground surgeon", but what does Iorveth know? She seems amenable enough to humoring the both of them, if the fact that she doesn't throw them out immediately is any indication: Iorveth leans heavily against Astarion's side for balance, willing the world to spin a little less as he avoids careening into a half-orc-shaped mannequin dressed sharply in a maroon doublet.
"Kurug" steps back and away with his hands up as if he's bearing witness to a robbery, while three cats in three different outfits mill around the pair's feet, more curious than afraid. Iorveth shifts, trying not to bleed all over the tabby trying to rub up against his leg. ]
Not the best time to be taking my gambeson in for a fitting, [ he manages with a soft exhale, almost a dry laugh. Slightly limp against Astarion's side, trying to peel Astarion's hand off his shoulder. It must be getting sticky.
From upstairs, the voice of an elderly man just on the verge of senility trickles down to where they're standing: "do we have more customers? Oh dear, it'll take me ages to get downstairs..." ]
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"Kurug" steps back and away with his hands up as if he's bearing witness to a robbery, while three cats in three different outfits mill around the pair's feet, more curious than afraid. Iorveth shifts, trying not to bleed all over the tabby trying to rub up against his leg. ]
Not the best time to be taking my gambeson in for a fitting, [ he manages with a soft exhale, almost a dry laugh. Slightly limp against Astarion's side, trying to peel Astarion's hand off his shoulder. It must be getting sticky.
From upstairs, the voice of an elderly man just on the verge of senility trickles down to where they're standing: "do we have more customers? Oh dear, it'll take me ages to get downstairs..." ]