I was talking about your wedding night ensemble. [Astarion crows out with a devilish flash of white fangs— chin tucked down against his chest to exaggerate their daggered sharpness. Not to mention the even more knifing slant of his own lips.

He knows he's being clever.]

But— conjured glass? Really? [Tsk.] I'm all for the idea of an inscription, it'd be our own eternal secret— damning only to those who could possibly understand and also somehow know about your home world, but glass?

Couldn't we rob someone disgustingly wealthy instead and call it a honeymoon gift to ourselves?