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Summary
“I’ll have you know, spending a year holed up in a tower with little but–excuse me!” Gale gasped, snatching up Toska’s hands just as she escaped him, before she could poke at him like leavened dough. “Little but good bread and wine to deafen the onslaught of all-consuming guilt and forbidden affliction is not a very conducive environment for exercise!”
“Have wizard towers ever been a conducive environment for exercise?” Toska asked contrarily.
“And!” Gale added, his eyes aimed everywhere but at her, “one is predisposed to develop a certain complex when night after night he finds himself in the company of men like Wyll and Astarion.”
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In which a jaunt to Facemaker's Boutique does not go as planned.