[ Of course. Iorveth wouldn't mock or ridicule him for his shortfalls. Two centuries of scorn have made him expect the worst, but Iorveth is too unbearably sweet for that. It's part of why Astarion— well. Loves him, he supposes. What a terrifying word. Even so, his mouth twists into a pleased little smile, lips pressed together tightly in a failed attempt at suppressing it. ]

Only if I rid myself of this hideous hair.

[ He's still horrified that Dolores and Kurug saw him like this. They'd been polite enough not to say anything, but that didn't stop him from continually arranging and rearranging his hair in the hopes of hiding the scorched strands. ]

Once I've purchased a new dagger, I'll trim those lovely locks of yours, too.