If it meant anything at all, he really wasn't there to just have a quick fuck or anything like that. He was just seriously in tune with how she felt. How he felt around her. Like a cat seeking attention and a need to feed off it.

And she did such a good job of it too. The touches, the gaze, the little kiss at the corner of his mouth. No one had been this nice to him, not even the concubines sent to please him in the cells.

He stood there before her, eyes still focused on her face, watching her as she seemed to struggle a bit with him.

And then the touch.

He glanced down as she rested her hand over the zipper, just in the right place where he had bandaged himself tightly. His brows creased, frowning now as he stared down at her hand.

"A bad fight. A week or so ago." He admitted, still staring down, almost ashamed. "It should have healed by now, but it has not. It does not hurt though, so I will not suffer. I... had to get somewhere else. I needed to eat. I needed.... um, needed things." he bit his lip (she might notice he had a bit fangy pair of teeth in there), watching her hand. "You smelled good. I am s-sorry..."