To Sita's horror, he felt heat rise to his cheeks. Aw, fuck, he was a grown bloody man, why was he blushing? Over this? In a whore house? He'd seen and done things far more risque than, uh, two ladies chatting about their relations in the most tame, mild-mannered way possible. It wasn't even like he didn't know it happened!
While his mind was still processing it all, and while he was struggling to find something to say so he didn't look like a damned imbecile, he felt a hand on his cheek as someone turned his head to face them.
It was Arren, his favorite, a young, lithe man Sita had been visiting for some years now, whenever he was in Adela.
"You're late," he said with a mock scowl, then leaned in for a quick peck on the lips before Sita could reply. "I hope you brought me something shiny and expensive, because that's the only way you'll get the tongue thing this time! I'm still pissed you didn't say goodbye last time."
Kill him now. "Shit came up," he managed, clearing his throat.