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    Summary

    His back arching against Olruggio's arm, acting like a support for Qifrey's whole body. While his other hand supported his bottom half, clasping his leg, keeping it lifted from the ground. In turn his hand was splayed across the Watchful Eye's chest, the other hooking itself on the black haired witches's nape. The sounds of their surroundings turning into a distant rumble, even the thumps of a few knocks. For what felt like a few clockmarks they just stared at each other, unmoving.

    Until, Qifrey broke the tension with a turn of his head, covering his mouth with his hand as a slight red adorned his already heated face. Attempting to gather his thoughts. "My, Olruggio..." He tasted the next words on his tongue carefully, his whole mouth feeling deserted of water. "That was quite effective, bold even- I've never thought of your anxieties for me as nagging, those are some of the features I admire of you. But, I must ask, did you get this idea of persuasion from one of Tetia's novels?" To be quite frank, this was a new side of Olruggio that he would love to explore more. If he was allowed the courtesy to do so, of course.

    Or, Qifrey and the guests that visit him after word of his surgery get out.

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