"In this hypothetical, where I am you, and you are me?" His eyes smiled, lingered on Saralegui's face.

"What I'm protecting myself from depends upon very much that's all hidden behind my smile. Why am I in this situation, a handsome young man, a kept pet, a carefully-trained courtesan? Was I sold as a youth? Forced into an arrangement by debt, poverty, or other concerns? What is my hope, for the future?"

Utterly unflappable and unperturbed, he slipped a hand underneath the arch of the foot Saralegui had nudged him with, and lightly stroked up to its slim ankle.

"Do I intend to find some regular, to take me in when I lose my contract as time erodes me? Someone doting and fond and wealthy? Do I sneak savings away? Do I lean too-far into these nights, trying to forget that the future exists? If it were me, I'd be the planning sort. Determined to eke the most out of my contract, and dependent upon good review. I'd do whatever it took. Whatever damned, distasteful, disgusting debasement it took, and protect my place tooth and nail. And I'd do it perfectly, and beautifully, and smiling."