The longer he holds Hythlodaeus' gaze, the more he has to resist the urge to squirm. His friend has always had piercing eyes. The sort to look deep within and understand the heart better than he ever could. What use his own talent with the Underworld if one couldn't understand a man's heart after all? Isn't that why Hythlodaeus made an excellent chief of their bureau?

He tries several times to speak, only for words to fail him. His arousal stands stiffly, embarrassingly, roused by mere suggestion and wordplay. He--

He wants. He wants. Hythlodaeus is right: he cannot fool his friend. They've danced around it long enough.

"'Daeus," he says thickly. "Enough. Have me already. I-- I don't wish to wait any longer."