Fine. They should do the job well. And, let's see... [ He takes the shears from out of his kit, then a container of safety pins. He grabs the shirt he had chosen for Astarion and cuts a straight line through it, leaving the side where Astarion is cuffed to him open. ] It won't be worth sewing together, but we can at least pin it back together. The trousers, I trust that you can handle. The dirt and blood, you can just use a whore's bath for.

[ Kim thinks for a moment, then removes his glasses again, setting them on the counter. It's a display of trust to be sure, but Kim doesn't feel as though he's truly in danger right now; Astarion would have bigger problems on his hands having to drag a corpse along behind him, and besides, if he's to get into a greater scuffle it will only be a greater trial for him. ]

There. I'm far-sighted. [ It's as much of an explanation as Astarion is going to get out of him. But true to his word, Astarion's face soon becomes a vague blob before him without his glasses; the closer something is to him, the more difficult it is for him to see, and he can barely make the man out like this. Though he's true to his word in other ways too -- for all of Astarion's pomp, Kim has dealt with enough bodies in his life for Astarion's to be just another lot. Even so, he doesn't appreciate the thought of being naked in front of someone else either - his lean torso running to a slight paunch as he hit his fourties, the scars, the birthmarks, the utter lack of an ass - so he'll grant Astarion the same luxury. ]

And if we're going to be spending the rest of the day like this, then I may as well have your name. Mine is Kim -- Kim Kitsuragi. [ The way he says it is formal, polite, as though he's not currently in his pajamas, tied to a stranger. Strange bedfellows indeed. ]