[Ianchus is already picturing it in his mind, the way Jezebel's slim, pale hands would wrap around his neck, the cold pads of his thumbs just under his adam's apple, that delicate turn of the wrists, long fingers sinking into his flesh--

He has to snap himself out of it, he knows he's getting ahead of himself. He resists the urge to wipe his mouth, and takes a few steps towards Jezebel. His smile is easy, but it feels desperate to him.]

You seemed quite eager, only to pull away at the last moment. It felt like a job left incomplete.