To say that having her lean in close, no matter how innocuous the proximity was made to seem, excited him, would have been an understatement. It was a small victory, a miniature triumph to which he could cling when she'd decided he was, once again, unamusing. Dark eyes darted around uncertainly, taking in everything he possibly could of this moment before she repositioned them and it disappeared, taking his victory with it.

"I can do that," Calendius promised easily, as if Jennifer wasn't asking him to completely change what had become a pattern of behavior. As silly as it was, as unrealistic, he actually believed it wouldn't be a problem. That somehow, if he had her, he wouldn't feel compelled to fall into bed with just anyone who met a certain arbitrary standard of beauty. It would probably be simple enough, he told himself. It was a habit, not some sort of behavioral addiction, and besides, it's not like any of them could compare to her anyway.

He glanced up and then down. They stood in an arch, which led to the terrace from which they'd come. He noted the decorative patterns in the glossy floor and the equally decorative greenery dotting the crown molding above them. One plant in particular stuck out. His smile widened to show inhumanly perfect teeth, those wrinkles around his eyes becoming ever more evident.

Abruptly, but with a certain playful brusqueness, he pulled her closer, closing the distance between them with little regard for her dress, or the paint smudged all over his chest. His artist had used fixative. It shouldn't have been a problem. In an instant, he placed a hand on her chin, leaning downwards and guiding their lips together. She was soft against him and he felt a little annoyed that circumstances limited exactly how far he could take this. When he pulled away, Calendius made a show of glancing up again at the decoration above them.

"You can be my queen, Jenny. I'll do whatever you want me to do."