[Jezebel can see Ianchus looking him over, the way his eyes settle on Jezebel's mouth. He doesn't consider himself particularly vain, but there is still some enjoyment in being admired, especially in a context like this where he felt steady, in control of how things proceeded.

After one final sip off the bottle, he puts it aside so that he can step forward, standing in front of where Ianchus sits on the bed. He palms his neck lightly, thumb running along the line of his windpipe.]

How would you like me to do this?