A Dog's Life (Patrick)

[Alistair]

96th of Vhalar, Arc 716

As the ship slowed and finished rising through the snake-like river towards the shore, the Venora rose from his restless encounter with the cabin bed. "Land, ho!" the sailors yelled, as the other passengers all scurried for the door, desperate to leave the wooden prison they'd volunteered themselves to board. Alistair sighed, gathering his belongings and slipping on a proper suit to meet the commoners - or locals, here in Rharne - with. As he exited the hull and witnessed the city before him, his violet eyes glimmered with excitement.

The city was large and densely populated, like Andaris and Ne'haer - but with a wholly different style of architect. There were songs playing from . . . everywhere. People scattered around - drunken brawls spilling out onto the streets. Total anarchy compared to a Sunday morning in Sabaissant, and honestly it was quite exciting. He'd seen all sorts of wild things since he left Rynmere in the late days of Saun - and he wanted to see many more delights, big and small. Rharne was an entirely separate entity from all the lands he'd crossed - Etzos, Ne'haer, Andaris, Venora; as far as he could tell, joviality was the norm rather than the exception. It sounded much like the tales he'd heard of Uthaldria, interestingly enough, though barring the maddened beasts of the fields.

He stepped down from the ship, said goodbye to the patrons of his voyage, and immediately embarked on an inquiry into the city. He asked around - man and woman, old and young - for the location of the nearest bar, or inn - any place of rest. Most people merely laughed at him, claiming the question as ridiculous. One even claimed that every home in Rharne was a bar - just with varying degrees of liquor. The first person to answer genuinely was a young man, who snickered and told him: the Harlot and Hound, right before their eyes. And it was - right before them, an establishment not ten meters away with a following of people around and within. And he had the poor luck of arriving in the early evening, to boot, where activity was at its peak where he came from.

As a result, the place was . . . bustling. Active. A bit intimidating. He wondered, quite frankly, how these bars kept business if there was so much competition. They all had to have different 'attractions', he supposed. Based on the name, he could only guess what the attraction was at this Harlot and Hound. What was the Hound portion, though? Hopefully Rharne doesn't have legalized bestiality, he thought to himself. Or perhaps they merely horded Lotharro due to their... rugged sex appeal.

He'd have to find out. After he managed to secure a room, however. This was a time for tourism and sight-seeing, but he needed to ensure he gained lodging before the places began to close down and he lost his chance to speak properly with an innkeep. The man stepped in through the front door of the establishment, immediately heading straight towards the table of an individual that seemed to be the . . . bartender, or something. An employee. That was all he needed.

"Um, hello," he said, greeting the man who stood before him. "Do you... fine... folks..." he paused. What was the proper dialect among the peasantry?

"Do you have rooms available, here?" he asked, correcting his introduction mid-sentence. It felt odd to speak without all of the pleasantry attached, but he made do. "I'm a party of one. Alistair Venora. New arrival." The nobleman offered a hand - it felt odd not to make such a gesture. His eyes looked to the person he'd approached, hoping to discover that Rharne was as polite as it was . . . rambunctious.

[Patrick]

Rharne never ceased to live down any expectations the people might've had, in essence it lived as a place unfettered from the constraints of time. People did the same thing every day with the same spirit, and much to Patrick's surprise only he seemed to notice or care. Why should he though? He knew how to have fun and it shouldn't have been so difficult, but for whatever reason in doing so he just didn't enjoy it as much. He'd grown too aware of things it seems, to keen on the passage of time itself. Why wouldn't he though? It seemed only yesterday he'd spent time with Rei, then Wendell, then the two once again. Then come to find out Wendell is missing and on that same day, Rei is stabbed by thugs from Dust Town while Pat was helpless in all but watching.

So far though things seemed quiet, even when Rharne remained loud of course. To Patrick that didn't bode well because something was bound to happen, something he hoped would be a turnout for the better. He could use something good granted his mood lately had been a little sour, that of course was the result of having to deal with the fact he was the only golden boy around here now. Wendell had been missing for sixteen trials now and so far no word yet, Rose reassured him that she was close though, that her web of favors would yield results in finding him soon. Patrick really needed that to be true, he couldn't handle the fact it was just him and Rei; as selfless as that sounded. Was it selfless or selfish? Technicality played in part there sure, but there had to be quite the debate over it granted circumstances. He wanted Rei for himself sure but he also wanted her and Wendell, the two as a combination were an embodiment to happiness he liked to entertain.

Yet the idea itself had to remain an item for now, as he had another night of revelry to cater. The Hound as it were commonly known proved to be busy as usual, many of the locals as well as foreigners who came in found themselves comfortable already. The night however still proved young and for Patrick, that meant anything could happen. From being the soft sporting type to rough playboy, he had to remember to entertain whatever fetish came his way with open arms. Not that he'd complain for the most part, he did ask Wendell to be a part of this industry, and he wasn't going to burn out so quickly either. Sugar came and took a platter of drinks to carry around and advertise, a few coy smiles and teases given to those who were baited by her assets. Something Patrick had to remember to do, granted his own tended to be his... well his eyes were interesting or so he believed, truthfully he never had been one to flaunt anything good about his looks. Never had the confidence before, now though he had practiced well enough to at least find the idea bearable.

"Hey there!" He greeted to an individual who seemed well dressed for the occasion, his eyes occasionally gazed at the man as he rummaged through the bar. It sounded like he had came for a room, as in a place to rest for the night. "New arrival huh? We've got rooms for ya, sit down and have a drink. First one's on the house." He cued as he poured a shot of whiskey, the glass then presented on the bar to the newcomer. "Ya said your name's Alistair Venora? Can't say I've heard of it, then again I don't get out much." He joked as he grasped the hand and gave a firm shake, he then grabbed a washrag to wipe down the counter top. "Rooms vary in price m' friend; if you're interested in somethin' standard it's only four gold; our better rooms are six gold." He offered as he checked the ledger to see which rooms weren't in use, he felt pretty sure there was one open for this Alistair character. "So what brings ya t' Rharne? Needed a different setting t' explore?" He inquired after he sorted through the list, his hand held out for whatever room Alistair might've purchased for the night.

[Alistair]

Hey there! the man yelled as he greeted him. Alistair's face seemed almost shocked for a moment, as the man's accent - native to Rharne, he imagined - uplifted his pitch into one that was . . . surprisingly friendly. The nobleman nodded slowly as the bartender acknowledged his status as a new arrival, confirming that they did in fact have rooms. Lovely. "Well, that's good," he replied, nervously. The man claimed to be unaware of his name - which made sense. Rharne wasn't an extension of Rynmere. Their culture, attitude and of names were considerably different - something he had noted from the hour or so he'd been docked.

"No need to know who I am," he replied. "My family is unimportant here. As am I. Just consider me a traveling doctor." Which he was, technically - though most of his studies overseas had been related to his continued pursuit of magical knowledge, and each stop was significant for a school or two of his study. Why was he in Rharne? Because he knew that Reyard - the father of Rupturing - was born and raised here, and came to prominence here. The potential for study of the arcane arts, here, was exceptionally appealing.

As were the regular rooms, he determined, not allowing himself to be posh in deciding his choice of lodging. He had no need of some exquisite master bedroom for his stay - and 4gn a night was already costly enough in his eyes. He quickly confirmed that he would wish to stay in the standard suite, sliding over four gold pieces to the man. His decision was easy, as it was just a night, and just four gold poorly spent even if the rooms were of unfitting quality. He had guaranteed lodging for the night - this way - and could find a more suitable alternative tomorrow, in the possibility that the room given to him did not suit his needs. He imagined it could already be far too loud. The time was late and yet booming voices still rang from across the establishment. Alistair liked his . . . quiet.

As for what brought him to Rharne, well . . . he couldn't be wholly honest. He lowered his eyes. "Well, uh. I suppose I wanted to broaden my intellectual horizons. I hope that doesn't sound too . . . scholarly. But, I was raised in a puritanical home with strict rules and regulations and expectations of decency and poise. Similarly, my travels have shown me to more theological and restrained cultures. Rharne presents a unique opportunity for me to explore a more . . . guttural state of mind." Shortly after finishing that tangent, he realized it probably could have been summarized much more easily.

"In layman's terms, I wanted to experience something new," he stated. "What about you? Were you born here? I know you can't be from Rynmere, as you would have heard of my family if you were." Alistair asked him this with some level of interest in his gaze, though his eyes quickly went off to view everything else this side of the room. The patrons, the services, the pricing. His expression grew odd as he read upon the 'menu' of this establishment. "Dancers..." he whispered.

"What's this Hound thing?" the nobleman asked. "I imagine the Harlot is a... well, woman of the night as they'd say among my peers. But a Hound? Is that just the male variant, or what?" He could scarcely imagine why they'd name it the 'Hound'. He supposed many considered male sexuality more bestial, so that was a likelihood.

"Also," he started, "why would you ever hire the ten minute dancers? That's just going to work you up and leave you hanging. If the purpose of these services is sexual gratification, why not just buy the Harlot or Hound flat-out?" The question was almost rhetorical. He realized he sounded like some ancient old man who had never been introduced to 'lively' behavior. But still - the oddities of the businesses based in carnality never ceased to astound him.

[Patrick]

The man that had introduced himself as Alistair only belittled the name he carried with the mention it wasn't important, at least not here at any rate, as he simply told Patrick he was merely a traveling doctor. "Heh, for a doctor ya pick the strangest places t' bunk at night." He teased as he accepted the four gold pieces, the ledger updated with Alistair's name written on the room they had on spare for the night. When it came to hearing his reason for visiting Rharne, Pat's eyebrows furrowed a little but only because he found it odd, why on Idalos would anybody consider a scholarly visit here when only booze and revelry awaited them? Perhaps that's what he wanted to discover instead?

A change of pace never really hurt anybody really but something told Pat that Rharne wasn't entirely Alistair's forte, he was far too educated and uptight to be the sort who considered 'trying something new' as he put it. "Born and raised me whole life, can't say I'm familiar with where Rynmere is located honestly." He announced at the mention of it with consideration for Alistair's family, from the sound of it this 'Venora' clan seemed pretty prominent there wherever it was. "I work as a bartender at a couple o' odd places, maybe even do an occasional odd job here and there." Patrick filled him in to give Alistair a little more background, hopefully he sounded a little more colorful than what this place had to project. Then came the question at what a Hound was in this place, something that brought good mirth out of Patrick as he couldn't help but grin then.

Alistair must never have been the kind of guy who ever visited these types of establishments, granted he had to actually ask that and a few other questions related to dancers. "Don't get out much I take it?" He teased with a friendly if not mischievous wink. "Plain and simple if a person wants a dance without feelin' guilty 'bout visitin' somebody other than their 'loved one' at home, they can go the cheaper route and have somebody dance for them. Harlots and Hounds, like my good self, are inclined to please the customer how they see fit. That is if they're willin' t' pay of course." He reasoned with arms folded on the counter top, his eyes shot down to the drink once more as he noticed Alistair had yet to touch it. "Ya know many would take advantage of a free first drink when offered," He reasoned as he nudged the glass a little closer to the man, "go on mate and enjoy the thrill of yer new experience."

He more or less challenged Alistair to go with what he'd told Patrick, keen to aptly provide this man with this new experience he sought. "Hounds work like Harlots, just the male version is all. We're paid t' please customers and we tend t' have our own rules, our own way of doin' things dependin' on who you ask." He finished with a forward tilt in his head, his eyes focused on Alistair as he wondered more about the man. "If you're curious enough about it, I wouldn't mind bein' the first t' demonstrate for ya." His lips curved into a wide smile once more, his eyebrows rose with amusement as he watched how Alistair handled the offer.

[Alistair]

For a doctor, ya pick the strangest places t' bunk at night, the man remarked. It was all too true. Whether in the high towers of Sabaissant du Cristel, the family palace, or on a hard bed in a Coven crypt - Alistair often went to a lot of strange places. This was just . . . a new addition to the 'unique ventures' he'd engaged in. "Born and raised, huh?" he remarked. "Well, Rynmere isn't far from here at all. In fact, our eastern colonies - pending serious investment - ought to be exceedingly close to Rharne. No more than a fortnight away, I'd imagine." Though he wasn't sure just how enthused the government of Rharne was about Rynmere expanding near their territory - and already within Rynmere there was squabbling and competition between the noble families as to who would claim this great new land.

"You must have a lot of interesting conversations," the nobleman said. "I'm actually quite jealous, sort of - I've always been interested in people from unique environments. Being an island Kingdom, Rynmere is isolated. The vast majority of my clientele is from not a village away. Rharne has revealed to me many a colorful face already. Yourself included," he said with a polite nod. Alistair noted his calm in continuing the discussion - somehow this bartender already seemed quite approachable. Easy to talk to. Maybe it was the luster of a new land easing his usual demeanor. Either way, he was enthused to hear more from him - about the choice of a dancer or a Hound, and all the rationale in-between the decision.

Though, he was surprised to hear the logic behind hiring the 'dancers'. In noble circles, even winking at a person of such 'sensual' reputation was likely to incur an argument from your loved one. To not feel guilty merely because you didn't go "all the way" was a foreign concept to Alistair, and surely to those of his community. He looked very confusedly at the bartender.

"Seems like a waste of time, frankly. Perhaps those individuals who are not content with faithfulness should consider not engaging in a monogamous relationship at all. Why waste valuable coin living the fantasy of loose sexuality when the possibility lays out in the open?" He supposed he wouldn't know, considering his lack of relationships throughout his life. He'd only had one - and short lived at that - with no sexuality or commitment attached. It was hardly an experience at all, looking back.

This man, on the other hand, had a lot of experience surely. He claimed to be a Hound himself, which was a creative way of saying 'male prostitute' in this establishment. Alistair blinked, replying quite reactively: "You're a... prostitute?" he asked him. "Oh, my," the man said with an awkward smile. "Well. I suppose you're not what I typically imagine when I think 'bearded strumpet,' but you can't judge a book by its cover," he remarked awkwardly.

"How do you even know I'm interested, though? For all you know, Rynmerens behead sodomites or some such savage practice. Maybe I'm like a fish and don't even have sexual desires. I feel almost petrified, being set upon by a stranger," he laughed lightly. In truth, he was actually made nervous by the offer, but he played it off with the ruse of confidence. The man was attractive - almost exactly how he imagined an ideal partner. But he was a prostitute. There was no love to be found, was there? It was merely an exchange of one commodity for another. Such a thing . . . did not appeal to him. Not past the preliminaries, at least.

"As for the drink, well... I don't drink. So, you should just hand it off to someone else. Drinking is a poor habit. I prefer my senses sharp."

[Patrick]

To discover that Rynmere had in fact been a colony not too far from here brought an expression of consideration, as Patrick puckered his lips with his eyes cast aside in thought from the information. Rynmere was somewhere off the coast north of here was it not? He hadn't really studied geography much to know anything about it, though he did recollect hearing a few things about the place. Families ruled there in colonies, noble clans and such or so he'd heard. Venora must've been one of these clans actually, seeing as how Alistair seemed pretty dismissive that it wasn't anything big to ponder. "Interesting puts it mildly in this business mate," He mused as he listened to Alistair's perspective of daily life, "Can't imagine how that dulls in comparison t' this really. Sure ya see knew interestin' people now, but try livin' with them everyday fer a few arcs." He jested comfortably as he reached under the bar to pull out his own shot glass.

With his own shot of whiskey served he relaxed against the counter once more, his humored entertainment sounded in soft chuckles to Alistair. Clearly they had very different views in Rynmere compared to Rharne, as monogamy tended to be a loose term around here. "Simply put mate everybody here's all in for the good of a good time, married folk and single folk alike are privileged to do as they please! Of course go to the Glass Quarter where the higher ups are, then they're like t' frown on such behavior." He reasoned just before he threw back the shot and poured himself another, so far Alistair still refrained from taking a drink.

Patrick couldn't help the laugh that cracked his lips, a soft nod followed as he picked up the second shot. "Aye that's puttin' it bluntly." He watched Alistair stumble over what to say really, his choice of words amused the bartender to no end. "Gives me an advantage over newcomers ya know, able t' figure out what makes ya tick deep down." As he added that last part he shot a glance down to the lower reaches of Alistair's body, his lips once again turned into a mischievous smirk as he listened to the Venora's reasoning. "Now see that proves an interesting situation!" He pointed to the man upon hearing the the fact Alistair felt petrified. "Way I see it such a savage practice must be in part what you'd like to experience! Because ya clearly stated earlier that you're here fer somethin' new, therefore even if my bein' a Hound is such a shock," He made air quotes with his fingers to gesture an emphasis on shock, "Deep down I'm pretty sure yer a lil' curious."

He downed the second shot and raised an eyebrow afterwards when Alistair turned down the drink, a shrug followed as he reached for the glass in front of the Venora. He held it up to Alistair to offer one last chance, to indulge in his curiosities even if it went against his better interest. "Who needs sharpened sense! Just let loose and allow yourself to have fun!" With that he waited to see if Alistair budged, if he gave in and took the shot then Patrick would only watch and grin. If Alistair still turned it down then he would merely shrug and down the shot himself.

[Alistair]

Their culture was certainly . . . unique. Though he imagined the loose sexuality and lack of societal pressure to commit was probably why they didn't stretch quite as far as his Kingdom did - with nearly as many people. Rynmere was second only to the Eternal Empire, and both monarchies were disciplined and 'proper' at their core. Honestly, being here was a learning experience. He pondered upon all that Patrick said and imagined the impact it had on their society. This 'glass quarter' was sure to be an interesting second location for him to visit, and one he'd consider venturing towards in the oncoming days.

Quite honestly, he figured they'd be of like minds - as nobles were nobles no matter where you went, and they tended to have mannerisms and judgmental behaviors in common. Whether these were nobles left by 'divine' lineage - such as his own - or descendants of merchants so wealthy they become a household name, their ideology tended to be similar. As such, he could only mock them ironically as Patrick brought up their condescension towards their 'free love' culture. "How dare those high society, limp noodles judge you innocent bystanders for engaging in illegitimate sex and wildly spreading disease," he said sarcastically. Come to think of it, this would certainly be an interesting location to do a case study about the effects of culture and commerce on sexually transmitted diseases. He'd have to jot that idea down somewhere.

Of course, only after he'd engaged in this surprisingly humorous conversation with the charming bordello bride he'd come across. The man claimed to be capable of knowing what made Alistair tick. And maybe he was right. After all, very immediately did he offer himself, and he was very clearly Alistair's type. He knew he was interested in men in general - and that he was interested in the act of . . . sensual relations that two men could engage in. But he hadn't quite surmised just how 'square' the nobleman was, and continued to offer him drinks and revelry as a result.

"It's inadvisable," he continued to say. "Who's to say you're not going to rob me blind and slit my throat if I get drunk? Plus, if I were to embark upon hiring you, I'd want to be sober. I've never..." he cleared his throat, "never done anything of the sort. With anyone. Of any sex." His expression grew flustered, almost embarrassed. It was difficult to admit that he was a virgin, as old as he was. But - you made choices in life. He chose his business, his skills and his talents over love and desire. "Screw it, though," he raised his arms. "Why not hire you? We can have a slumber party or something - it'll be fun. And I have gold to spare," he mused. Not all that much, admittedly, but he'd been collecting it since his departure from Rynmere. A traveling doctor still had a great deal of coin to gather.

"Thirty gold pieces, was it?" he asked, for confirmation. "Here's thirty-five," he whispered, passing him a small bag of coins that he'd filled before his eyes. "You might be surprised to learn of the sorts of things that spark my enthusiasm, though," he said with a waggle of the brow. Alistair was holding back a ridiculous smile - he was going to enjoy the Hound, but not in the way the man would expect to be 'enjoyed'. He already had his quill in hand.

[Patrick]

The moment came where Alistair tried to joke about the nobles of the Glass Quarter, albeit the joke itself didn't sound quite as comical to Pat as Alistair likely intended to. Still the bartender could feign a good laugh as he knew the man wasn't like him, he after all came from a background all on his own much different from the rest. Rynmere. It must be a breeding ground of rich noble clans, if they beheld the same manner of etiquette this man did at least. "Aye, who says we need their scrutiny anyways." He mused almost awkwardly as he tried to play along, though he didn't have to work very hard once the conversation headed in another direction.

It seemed Alistair remained determined to abstain from drinking, something that bothered Patrick well enough but remained hidden, well buried by the friendly smile he presented as he threw back the shot Alistair turned down. That was three. Now he felt warm and fuzzy inside his gut and more than ready to crack this nut, although Patrick had a good feeling Alistair would be tougher to crack than the average folk he encountered. It'd be a fun challenge all the same to Patrick, and that's just how he viewed this to be. One thing Patrick always tended to do was get what he wanted, at least when it came to getting others to let loose and have fun in their own right. Nell was one such person even though that backfired on him, still he managed to get her to smile and go along with the game at the time. Now?

Now it was Alistair's turn to play, and it certainly looked as though he were already interested. "Heh, for that kind o' coin we can do whatever ya want mate. I'm all yours fer however long ya desire with that kind o' pay." He mused with another wide smirk, a wink repaid to Alistair as he placed the bag down in a box used for the ledger. "Aight then, let's go spend time doin' whatever." He finished wiping down the counter top first before he gestured for Alistair to follow, and led the man up the staircase into the hallway that took them to his private room. Patrick honestly hadn't any clue just what sort of freaky things Alistair had planned, but granted he'd worked here long enough to learn the gist of them all, he only needed to go with the flow and let things pan out as needed.

Besides they were both in this for fun were they not? So naturally Patrick would play ball for the time being, and when the moment was right he'd go in for the win. Such was the way of the game he played, something he'd learned fast in the short time he worked here. Once they arrived at the room Patrick opened the door first and stood to allow Alistair to enter first, a polite bow granted to the 'nobleman' as he was before he followed in behind the man. "Okay, you're call now." He remarked as he shut the door, a lean in close to Alistair's personal space with a playful smirk. "Whattya want t' do?" The tease was added with a finger to trace over Alistair's bicep, a quick pull away followed as he moved on over to the bed frame in the room.

[Alistair]

Immediately as they entered the room, the other man got in close - he even touched him. While it was alarming, in a way, it wasn't entirely unexpected. He was after all a prostitute - not a profession that called for immense respect of personal space. Quite the opposite, actually. Still, he couldn't deny his allure, and he didn't jerk away or slap his hand when he touched Ali's bicep. Instead, he stood quietly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and a sort of deep and repressed desire. One that was impossibly afraid to surface.

"Well," he started, thinking of where he would like to begin. The man moved himself to the desk he'd been given with the room, setting down his bag of essentials on the floor as he loosened his collar to properly breathe. He moved to the far end of the room and opened the window fully, ensuring they wouldn't be razed by the musty air of an enclosed room.

"What gets my ichor flowing..." he began, "is intellectual discourse. Yes - intelligent conversation. Relevant information. There's nothing like a mathematical equation or a scientific research journal to get my trousers hot," the man laughed lightly. He was almost telling the truth, too, though part of this was all just an elaborate tease of Patrick. A way to make his night interesting.

Alistair seated himself on the desk by his belongings, then turned it around to face the bed, where he gestured Patrick sit. "So, my dear, I'm curious." He rested his quill on the side of his parchment, hands clasped together as he looked to the man across the room. "How long have you been doing this? And have you had many regrettable experiences while doing so? Such as, for example - violent partners, possessive clients, so on and so forth. I imagine living life as a... 'Hound' probably isn't as easy as merely spreading your legs or spreading the legs of the client. I'd love to know if that's the case." He looked to Patrick again, though only in glimpses as he began to wet his pen with ink.

He was - quite literally - going to document this man's experiences for the sake of his research. That was the type of man Alistair was. In place of acknowledging his sexual desires, he would merely force the conversation away from them. He'd make it all about Patrick - what he knew, what he experienced, the life he led. It was harmless, that way. And it was probably better for the both of them.

"You can feel free to lay down and relax if you'd like, by the way, as we're chatting. Consider this as me buying out your break. A paid date. I have no need of making you feel uncomfortable or obligated to... 'please' me."

[Patrick]

There was always something about the backrooms and their privacy that changed Patrick, that gave him a better suave confidence when it came to dealing with clients. Alistair found himself comfy at the desk shortly after the window had been opened to allow in some air, the usual musty smell of his trade allowed to vent outside while he quirked his head just a bit. What this man found more gratifying that physical pleasure was intellectualism, something that surprised Patrick for a moment as his eyebrows furrowed. Really? The thing that got this man off was or would be knowledge, insight about how Patrick lived in this usual setting?

No problem. Two could play at this game then. "Not very long," He responded as he rose to his feet with his eyes on the window, "I only started recently because a friend showed me the ropes. Took me on as a pupil for a time, real good with his own work." He explained with a casual stroll towards the window, his eyes often shot to Alistair with mischief in mind. "As for experiences, I'm not the sort to kiss and tell." He teased with his smirk flashed to Alistair, his hands brought to his collar as he started to adjust. He was then assured he could be as comfortable as he chose, that Alistair's decision to hire him practically gave him a break from actual work. Wait, what? He wanted Patrick to relax and do nothing? Just... sit back and answer a question here and there? The thought made him laugh a little as he watched the outside, the fresh cool air teased the surface of his neck. Did he feel a little warm? Definitely felt a little warm.

His hands worked to undo the buttons of his shirt as he moved on over to the desk, his eyes fell upon the quill as he watched the delicate strokes Alistair made. The way his hand flowed flawlessly across the parchment, it was true that the man had his own flair. Something about it actually allured Patrick then, well enough that he'd at least try and go in for the bait. "Ya know," He murmured softly in Alistair's ear, "I think its very attractive that you're into this sort of thing." By now the shirt had slipped to the floor, and while he move to stand behind Alistair his hands worked at the belt, the leather unfastened as his trousers loosened at the waist. "I can't think of anything other experience that's excited me any more than this." He played coy as his fingers undid the fasten at his waist, the pants now loose as he waited to see just how pressed his luck really was.

Continued Here.