What? Just like that? This fellow hasn't so much as asked for his name, let alone what he expects for the help in return. No small part of Astarion is suspicious of that, but the man doesn't radiate the same kind of sleazy dealmaker aura of devils and nobles, the ones looking to leverage you out of what you're least willing to part with.

"A romantic then," the vampire teases, voice lilting coyly. "Adorable."

Watching Obsidian with an arched brow, he wonders what the deal was with the literal sizing up. He's definitely not expecting a clothesmaker's tools though. How curious. His hand settles on his hip where he usually keeps his own sewing kit, though it seems it hasn't come along with him into the 'afterlife.'

"You're a weaver by trade then? Or more of a hobbyist?"