Saralegui's stare lingered too long, more stunned with every word. All too perceptive, too knowing. It felt more like an interrogation and left him wanting to squirm, feeling more exposed than he did most nights while fully naked.

Eventually, he had to break the eye contact. He dropped his gaze to Tzilan's fine shirt, lifting his hands again to distract himself fussing with the lowermost button, taking far longer than needed to slip it through the buttonhole.

"You would make a good whore." Too honest. Too blunt. But he had the feeling it would be alright.