He did not see Jyotika approach him as he had turned his attention ahead of him after asking her about the wine. When he got no answer, he was surprised until he felt the barely perceptible touch of her hand roving over his scars. He winced slightly, but not from pain; instead from the gentle tingling her nearness sent tenderly surging through his skin. He remained stoic as she asked him of his lashes. Peering at her over his shoulder, he said with a wry smirk, "No, they no longer hurt. Most things cease their pain after about four hundred years.... I received a hundred a day for fourteen days straight."
Images of himself being chained to large stone blocks while a masked prison guard wreaked havoc on his his back with a thorn covered whip flashed in Tarquin's mind. He shook his head quickly, his eyebrows coming together in anxiety. A drink would calm his blood. There beside the ignited pewter stick was an open alcohol bottle. In an instant, he reached for it had taken a large gulp, allowing the acidic sensation of strong, fiery brandy to scorch his throat. Sometimes the slow buzz of wine didn't suit Tarquin as well when he wanted a something with a quick, strong punch. This brandy did just the trick. He calm slightly, loosing his once death grip on the bottle, sighing heavily. Then another image forced his way past his mental barrier and displayed across his mind again. In a roar of anger, he thrust up from his seat at the edge of the bed and sent the bottle across the room in hard throw, causing its fragile glass encasement to crash into a million tiny shards, all of which landed safely on the floor.
Placing his face once again between his hands and rubbing his cheeks with his palm, he quickly came too and slumped once more at the edge of the mattress, obviously not caring that he was completely nude. Damn him! Damn him! his head roared in vengeful agony. Letting go of his inner pain, he no longer sat with his back facing Jyotika. Instead he twisted around and sat so that the he could better face her. It was then that he looked deeply into her eyes. Aside from his own fire burning harshly in his, he looked past her glassy veneers and tried to sense deep into the crevices of her mind, were all hidden thoughts lay. It was a gentle stare, one that difficult to break from. But when Tarquin did not find what he sought, he focused on the here and now. Reaching up a hand to stroke her cheek, he managed a ghost of a smile and uttered softly, "I'm sorry for my outburst." As his fingertips reached past her cheek and down to her jawline, he let them slide across her shoulder and down to the spot between her shoulder blades.
Remembering how she flinched the first time, he spoke softly, "Tell me...why did you wince when I touched you here?"