Further in, the Teahouse quickly grew quieter. The walls were thick to ensure privacy for even its loudest guests, and the noise from the rest of the cheerful group faded fast. Still, Saralegui kept close. There was no need for formalities and polite distance here.

"That's very generous of you." He subtly glanced his customer for the night over, trying to piece together a more complete picture, something easier to work with. A young man, apparently quite well-off, but not here to show it off. His clothes were nice, but not extravagantly so. And that hint of hesitation seemed sincere. What he was looking for here continued to evade Saralegui, though. Not boasting, but probably not desperation, because a rich, handsome, and pleasant-enough young man shouldn't have been lacking in options that didn't require pay.

Simple shyness, maybe? A fear of fumbling a first attempt with a real lover and so wanting to "practice", so to speak?

"I'm the one who should be asking what to expect," Saralegui said, carefully light and good-humored. "You're the customer, after all. Getting to do whatever you want is sort of the point."

Reaching the door of his room, a handsome dark oak the same as all the rest except that it was the closest to the end of the hall, he paused with one hand on the knob and the other caught around his guest's arm. He shot the young man a sly glance, squeezing his arm just faintly.

"If you're...uncertain, though, I could always makes a few suggestions."