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Summary
It was a beautiful night. As beautiful as any night could be in a wretched city like Baldurs Gate. Crisp air with not a single cloud to obscure the ever watching stars. And from where Ilvarel was perched he could barely make out the sound of people frolicking in one of the many taverns below. No doubt drinking their worries away and seeking a warm body to lose themselves with for the night. Perhaps in that way he was like them. Seeking someone to entertain him for the next few hours.
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Or: In which my Dark Urge does Dark Urge things and then goes to rethinkg his understanding of affection while being with the man he is totally not in love with.