"Of course," he purrs, taking a seat on the bed once more behind Vanyel and looking over his handiwork. A slender finger traces the welt in an unnecessarily sensual way, still just admiring before he gets to healing. It's not much longer before the dragonborn will feel a soothing warmth that slowly saps the sting from his back.

"So who's Dibella? An old flame? A wife?" He heard the name more than once last night. The fact that Rotund'jere is blissfully asking after possible spouses and infidelity is, well. That's a little cold. But he is a sadist, after all. And what old queen is complete without the thrill of ruining straight dudes. Honestly.