"A Most Unusual Errand of Mercy" Log Date: 11/9, 11/10/99 Log Cast: Jenean, Amber, Richard Log Intro: Richard has been wounded in a knife fight -- and his stubborn refusal to let a healer attend to his wound has forced him to have to hole up in his flat in Bordertown for a good number of days, while his body takes the much slower, unmagical path to mending itself. He has been attended and quite efficiently by the beautiful Mongrel Rory. He has been visited with entirely mercenary intentions by the not-exactly-beatiful Mongrel Weasel, and despite his injury the Rook has been able to persuade the diminutive merchant that the failure of the plague cure he'd sold him to save his friends Jacob and Dorcas cancels out the two remaining zechin that Richard had owed him. And he's been visited by Jenean from the Siren's Song, but where Rory had accepted his refusal to accept a healer's ministrations, the older and wiser Jenean has refused just as stubbornly to give in. And at any rate... she not only knows a healer, she's quite close to one as well, and furthermore one who rather shares her high regard for the Rook.... ---------- Jenean comes in from the stairs. Jenean has arrived. Jenean Wayward red-brown locks touched with grey, in tumbling curls most of the way down her back, frame a slightly older, worldly-wise face. Sea-blue eyes dance with amusement, taking in everything around them, and lips quirk in a smile. Jenean's frame is slim, yet shapely, of slightly above average height. A bright, full, multicoloured skirt swirls around her legs, over which she's wearing a plain linen blouse. Her movements are graceful, yet somehow sensuous. A white Empyrean pinfeather - too big to be anything else - is cunningly worked into the mane down her back, held in place by a quick plaiting of three strands of hair. In addition to that, she has a dark cloth choker round her neck, a gem the blue of her eyes set in gold at the hollow of her throat. Amber comes in from the stairs. Amber has arrived. Amber Like her name, she is rich with the golden color of that resinous gem. Her hair, not red or blonde but holding shades of both, is a lusterous gold touched with the faintest hints of brown. It falls from the crown of her head in luxurious, loose waves to the middle of her back. Tucked over the long and delicate points of her ears it frames a sun-darkened complexion that is creased with the lines of middle-age. Laugh lines are most prominent, feathering about her mouth and spreading crow's feet from the corners of her leaf-green eyes. A comfortable beauty resides in her features, made up as much by her expressiveness as by any artistic sense, but by no accounting does she surpass the carven beauty of many of her fellows. Maturity marks her frame. Gentle curves and quiet strength embody every line. Full hips and breasts are separated by a remarkably slim waist--a gift of her forefathers. Reserve marks her actions, but so does gaity as well. Leaves climb over Amber's curvacious frame only to reveal themselves as a subtle paterning painted onto the cloth of her gown. It slicks to her body, outlining every toned cut and lucious curve. The bodice is split down the front and laced over the pale skin with black silk cord so that it barely contains her ample bussom. The cut trails down past her navel and finally closes about three inches below it. The skirt is straight and split up both sides to her hips, proving to be little more than a single sheet of material draped over her body and then sinched into place with the appropriate ties. Her feet are daringly bare and her ankles adorned with bracelets that chime softly. Jenean knocks on the door, with a soft but carrying, "S'Jen." "A moment...!" comes a call from within, in Richard's tenor, slightly hoarse. After that moment passes the door is hauled laboriously open, revealing the disheveled figure of the wounded man who lives in this tiny flat. His black hair and his face are damp, showing signs he must have been attending to cleaning himself up some; his jaw, too, is freshly shaven. A black shirt covers most of his upper body, untucked into his trousers and temporarily hiding the bandages around his waist, though the top of that shirt is unlaced and shows a good deal of the chest beneath. Richard's eyes, very blue against that dark shirt, go a trifle wide as he sees who is with Jenean, and it takes him a moment before he smiles crookedly and says with an arched brow, "Ladies. Come in, eh?" The sight of Richard itself seems to be a blow to Amber. She stumbles and pales noticably, fingers tightening on the strap of her large leather satchel. The green gaze narrows swiftly after that and she straightens, spine stiffening as she glances to Jenean. Jenean ushers Amber in, one arm round her waist to steady her for a moment. A smile for Richard, though, and a "How're y'feelin', handsome?" Taking a step backward to admit the women into the room, Richard smiles that crooked smile of his first at Jenean, saying dismissively, "Well enough." Some of his attention lingers upon Amber, however, and he adds to her, "Ye're here t' check on me, too, or are ye the healer Jen was threatenin' me with?" His tone is one of simple curiosity, nothing more, but his azure eyes have gone strangely unreadable. Amber snorts softly and gives Jenean a level, unreadable look and then pulls the satchel off her shoulder. "I'm here to see you don't run about and kill yourself, Richard. Sit down so I can take a look at you, would you?" She glances over at the mongrel beside her, "Would you see if we can't get a bit of hot water going around here, maybe on the hearth? I'll likely need to make up a poultice for this lug.." Jenean slips behind Richard, settling arms around his neck for a momemt and brushing lips against his cheek, before moving over to the fire and starting to hunt for a pot. "It's been stitched up and bandaged," Richard notes gruffly, one hand bringing up the dangling front end of his shirt to reveal the strips of cloth twined around his middle. He is not at all insensible to Jenean's contact, though, and he slides her another brief smile before he pushes the door closed and moves stiffly over to sink into one of the two chairs in the room. In the meantime, there is one battered tin pot near the hearth -- as well as a bucket of water that was very likely the cause of the wetness of Richard's ebon hair. Amber smiles thinly, "Then you won't mind me taking another look at it, now.. will you?" She sets the satchel down on the floor and sets both hands on Richard's shoulders. Her smile spreads to a wide, warm grin with a winsome wink appended on the end of her question. Jenean applies water to pot. Stokes the fire, and sets the pot to heating, before moving behind Richard again, her hands on Amber's. A soft laugh. "Y'know - y'don't have t'get stuck with a knife t'have th' pair of us all over ye. Y'could just ask." There are men in Haven who wouldn't bat an eye at an offer like that. Seasoned though Richard is, he is not one of them; this can be read in the ever so slight flare of startlement behind his eyes and the small noise he makes in reaction, a cough that he modulates into a clearing of his throat. "Fascinatin' notion of healin' you two loves have," he drawls then, trying to cover his surprise. Amber's words get as their only reply the lifting of the bottom of that black shirt, keeping it out of her way. Amber's hands are firm but gentle, unwrapping the bandage carefully, with an eye to see that the last layers have not become stuck to the wound itself. She tisks softly. "A simple trip to an honest Healer would have dealt with this in minutes, Richard.. even if it would mean a trip to Delphi.." Behind him, Jen's voice carries a smile as her arms settle round his neck again. "There's more t'healin' than just mendin' th' body." She who has her arms about Richard's neck might well detect a subtle tension in those broad, lean shoulders of his, at odds with his more or less casual demeanor. She who now is unwrapping the layers of bandages can find beneath a long narrow slash across his flesh, a line of sullen but fading red against near-white skin, stitched neatly together by someone who must have had a steady hand. Richard exhales between his teeth as the knife wound is bared, and all he says in reply to either woman is a hoarse, "I prefer t' stay outta Delphi, if I've a choice." Amber mms softly, "Oh, I can understand that. Not a particularly pleasant bunch. Although there are a couple.." She looks up at Jen and gives her a broad wink. Fingers drift over Richard's skin, never touching the wound but testing the skin around it for heat. A discerning gaze measures up the stitches and she nods. "A neat enough job. Who did it?" A blade must have caught him fairly deeply; to a healer's senses, there is no heat of the wound going bad, but it will still be some days before the sundered flesh can safely be loosened from the threads holding it together... assuming magic doesn't tend it, first. Jenean's chuckle is husky. She slips away from him for a moment, retrives the pot from the fire with a satisfied not and sets it ready for Amber, then returns, arms draped once more about his neck. Mmmms, near his ear. "Aye. I c'n think of a couple I wouldn' throw outta bed fer makin' crumbs." Amber rises and slips over to the hearth, taking her satchel with her. Once there she begins to bring out a few items. Mortar. Pestle. Into these herbs are crumbled, crushed and mixed. The water is checked and once boiling enough of it to wet the whole into a paste is added as well. "A friend," Richard murmurs simply in answer to Amber's query. His faint smile returns at the banter, though he makes no vocal comment upon it. Blue eyes track Amber's movements, their gaze still oddly unfathomable, clear and crystalline, like a pale of sapphires. Jenean's hands move to massage his shoulders through the shirt, firm and practised, working on the knots of tension she finds. With businesslike movements, Amber prepares and tests the poultice and once satisfied, she brings the bowl of it back over to Richard and Jenean and begins to plaster it across the wound. She hums softly and packs a bandage over it and then begins to re-wrap his entire belly to hold it in place. "Now, you no doubt know you shouldn't be jaunting about with something like this.." Her hands linger for just a bit longer than perhaps they ought, stroking his skin. You sense Jenean is damn good at that. Both sensual and relaxing massage. That must be some poultice -- or perhaps it's the attentions to his shoulders, or the subtle attention to the bared skin around that bandage. Richard lets out a slow breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment to make dark crescents of lashes along his cheekbones. "I've been... advised on that, aye," he murmurs. Jenean purrs, next to his ear, hands working slowly. "An' y'never listen." You sense Amber's touch is soothing. Sweet. The poultice, too, warm against the pain of the wound. Its warmth seems to reach deep down within it, quickly relieving the pain that still pulses there, soothing it. The wave moves on, relaxing tired muscles with a faintly tingling sensation. Amber smooths her hand flat against Richard's chest, remaining over his heart. Her eyes open and she quirks a wry grin at the man. "You should have called us first, Richard. I can guarentee the healing would have been more.. enjoyable. Jenean's quite good at distraction." The glint in her eyes turns positively wicked at the last. Another husky laugh from the mongrel Cyprian, right next to his ear. "Daft thing is, hon, he doesn' believe me when I tell him I got a soft spot fer him. A subliminal shudder runs through Richard's lean frame, hinting at surprise at the relaxation of pain in his muscles -- and reaction to the touches of both the women. He lets out the breath he'd drawn in, glancing back at Jenean and then up to Amber with eyes gone dark and slightly glittering. Is that a _blush_ touching his cheeks? Surely not. Surely it's just a trick of the light. "I'd... hardly want to pull th' two finest ladies in the Song away from their business," he rasps, one corner of his mouth curling up. Amber drawls softly, "Honey, you -are- our business.." She grins and winks slowly before she leans down to press her lips gently against his mouth. Nothing like having a man captive to her every whim, except when she gets to share him with Jenean... Jenean murmurs, chuckling, "Like she said. An' yer our pleasure, too." A man would have to have ice in his veins, no matter his race, to fail to react to the dual seduction of the kiss feathered across his lips and the hands that knead at his shoulders. Never mind that he is wounded; Richard lets out a small, soft groan that has nothing to do with pain, and those well-cut lips of his brush an answering caress along Amber's. When he comes up for air he whispers, his voice turned to husky velvet, "Funny, I believe I feel m'strength comin' back t' me..." Amber straightens and laughs, tossing back her hair. "Jen and I seem to have that effect on men. Even.. after." Her voice drops a half-octave on the last word, turning it throaty and wicked and leaving little doubt as to after what exactly Jen and Amber are rousing men. Jenean mmmrms, peering over his shoulder, arms still round his neck. "An' he don' look dead from here." "I've just taken a bit of a gash," Richard drawls, his sapphirine gaze sliding back and forth between the two females. "'Tis hardly dead I am." With her arms around his neck as they are and her mouth near his ear, Jenean may well note the quickening of the wounded man's pulse, though he shows no obvious sign of it. A speculative look crosses Amber's face, but the moment of contimplation lasts hardly an instant before she acts, hiking up her skirts and settling herself astride Richard's lap. She grins and reaches out to pull Jen near enough for a lusty, laughing kiss. Jenean mrrps, almost strangling Richard befor she remembers to let *go*, rerturning the kiss enthusiastically. Well now! Richard lets out an involuntary, choked little cough -- his damaged waist pressed against just a tad too tightly, perhaps -- and then finds himself presented with the intriguing question of what exactly to do with a lap full of Amber. Sliding a black-clad arm loosely about the Sylvan's waist, twisting his head slightly to keep his face free, he hoarsely inquires, "Loves, d'ye plan to heal me or squash me, eh?" Amber breaks with Jenean to look down at Richard with a full grin and a positively wicked glint in her eyes, "What's the difference, luv?" Jenean mms. Nibbles playfully at his ear. "Don' see much, meself." "Seems to me," comes the man's velvet murmur, "that this... contradicts me keepin' from jauntin' around." Still, though, Richard's hand, that fine-boned, leanly muscled hand, glides up Amber's back to make a foray in beneath her hair. "Though, granted, I'd nae be a healer..." What to do with his other hand? Another intriguing question. Just to show Jen he hasn't forgotten her, he glances up and back at her -- and his eyes are less unreadable now, darkened with desire, yet still somehow distant. Amber chuckles darkly, "You can say that again.. and as for jaunting.. I don't see you going anywhere, any time soon.." Her own fingers play over Richard's skin where the bandages do not cling. Jenean leans in and kisses him, lingering. "Don' fret, hon." A soft smile. "We kinda like ye alive. 'n fact, we're real glad ye still are." She means that, too. "Alive," Richard breathes around Jen's lips, his tone one of marvelling agreement, growing dark and dusky like his eyes even as Amber's locale and the actions of her hands are beginning to provoke undeniable physical reactions directly south of the bottom of his shirt. "Aye... I'm that, though if ye two keep this up ye may kill me...!" Amber laughs, "Oh, Richard. Take it on good authority. We're not about to let you die on us. Not before we're through with you, at any rate.." Jenean mmms. Hands trail down his chest to the first of the fastenings on his shirt. "An' even if y'do, y'll turn up in whichever heaven yer headed for convinced ye just left it." A tremor of something suspiciously like alarm courses through Richard then, somewhat offsetting the far more pleasurable sensations kindling within his system. Some of the front lacings of his shirt are already undone, enough that he could have pulled on the garment without catching his head; the bottom two, though, are easily untied. But with a speed that belies his diminished energy, he brings his free hand up to intercept Jenean's, his agile fingertips beginning to drop trails of contact along those hands... and very likely trying to distract her from the laces. A strange behavior for a man in Richard's situation. His voice remains soft, though, as he rasps out, "I'm... not entirely convinced I'm not there now...!" Amber's caress continues, although one brow is arched at the quick movement. She laughs, "A bit more interested than you thought, Richard?" She teases the skin of his chest gently and then begins to slide her hands around his sides, scooting up his lap in a slow, sinuous rocking. Jenean decides that kissing him again is clearly the way to get what she wants, so does so, considerably less lightly than before. Not for nothing is Jenean queen of the women of the Siren's Song. _Tyche,_ is all Richard has time to think before his lips are met with blazing heat. Taken together with those intoxicating little wrigglings Amber is executing in his lap, this assault upon his senses is beginning to threaten to toss all his conscious thoughts right out the window. He cannot help but answer that kiss, even as his arm around Amber tightens reflexively and his free hand flails a moment in search of support. Perhaps the poor man's about to fall out of his chair, hrmm? That is not about to happen. Amber's hands glide around Richard's body, up underneath the back of his shirt, holding him tight to her body. She smiles and laughs, "Easy there, now.." A soft purr from Jen. "Mind. Y'll rip it." And then back to another maddening kiss. His shirt... his shirt! Another shiver of intermingled alarm and desire ripples palpably through Richard's lean frame, once Amber's hands make their clever way up under the black linen to find his back. Warm flesh and muscle back there, aye, and smooth skin... no, not entirely smooth. There are odd patches of texture back there, easily ignorable in the growing fire of passion -- or perhaps they would be if Richard didn't quiver sharply as Amber's fingertips reach one of those textured spots not far above the top of his bandages. "My... only black shirt," he gasps, sounding strangely pleading. "Quite attached to it..." Amber seems not to react at all, to Richard's reaction or to whatever she might find. In fact, she seems altogether unsurprised. Her fingers glide over the rougher skin and back to smooth without stopping and she smiles, "Then we'll have to take good care of it. You should put it aside.." Jenean's fingers trail down his chest, seeking out the fastenings of his shirt again. And., just coincidentally of course, preventing hom answering that remark by occupying his mouth, hhair brushing his cheek. Blue eyes go wide at Amber's murmured advice, and for a fraction of an instant, Richard looks almost... frightened. He _wants_ to claim that his shirt is just fine where it is -- after all, the most vital portions of him in this sort of tete-a-tete are not under the shirt, a point he's managed to make with charming efficiency to some of Jenean's younger girls and even Amber herself. But his body is remembering his last encounter with the Sylvan woman, his mouth is responding of its own accord to Jenean's kiss, and he can emit nothing more than a groan as he tries to find a balance between answering these ministrations heating his blood... and keeping that shirt on. His hands falter for a moment as he vaguely considers tucking the shirt in, but caution is rapidly losing ground to desire, and his hands wind up halted bemusedly in mid-air just over Amber's backside. Amber rotates her hips once in a slow circle against Richard's groin and she casts a glance back over her shoulder. Her gaze returns, peering at the man out of the corner of her eyes and colored by an amused grin, "You going to do something with those?" One button gone. Then another. Lips leave his, start to trace along his jaw, nip at his ear. Jen's warm hands slip inside his shirt and caress his chest, and she laughs, softly, "IF he doesn', I will." _Distract them,_ Richard thinks muzzily. If he can distract them, perhaps his shirt will remain unbothered, hey? Once he can pull in a bit of air, he rallies his wits enough to convince his left hand to regain contact with Amber, stroking along the small of her back and seeking out the sensitive spots he'd endeavored to learn on his last visit with her in the Song. His right hand quests sidelong for Jen, doing much the same for all that he has never touched her before. "Dazzlin' me with my options, ladies," he croaks, summoning up a hint of his usual lopsided smile. Once might be put down to ardor and haste, but twice is getting odd.. and the stuborness percieved is unusual. She cocks her head to one side and smiles at Richard, leaning back slightly, "You've got nothing to be afraid of with us, luv. Why don't you just relax?" Soft hands caress his chest, and Jen observes, quietly, "Ain't there's anythin' under a man's shirt I ain't seen." Relax, Amber says. Nothing under a man's shirt she's never seen, Jen says. Richard realizes in something like panic that distraction is not proving to be a workable plan. Every nerve in his body is clamoring for the elimination of the barrier of cloth between his skin and the warm curved form in his lap, for freeing up as much territory as possible for the exploration of both those sets of hands. And thus he falls back on a new strategy: deliberate downplay. "Just a... little off my guard, is all," he murmurs, the lopsided smile growing larger though it doesn't quite dispel the nervousness in his eyes. "Not too many men get this kinda fortune...!" And to help display a confidence he doesn't entirely feel, he turns his face up to Amber to seek out her mouth with his own while rubbing a palm along Jenean. When in doubt, go for bravado. How very male of him, eh? Amber returns the kiss with nearly as much enthusiasm as she normally grants such a gesture, but one small part of her mind ticks away. After all, she knows that he's lying in some way. She can't help but know. But to admit she knows would be to admit other things that clearly would change this whole situation. Torn in the moment, she merely returns the kiss with a small wimpering sigh. Jenean shifts, allowing his palm to brush her breast, and nuzzles at his neck. Deft fingers manage another button - that has to be the last, surely? - and her warm fingers trace a cricle on his chest. Aye, the shirt is now well and thoroughly unbuttoned and unlaced -- a rather fancy thing, this shirt, the line of fastenings trekking diagonally down towards his side. And certainly there's nothing particularly unusual about his chest; both women have seen it before, at any rate. Lightly dusted with dark hair, pale and with just enough muscle to give him pleasing definition of form, this part of Richard can't be the cause of the man's bizarre hesitance. But whatever that cause is, he isn't about to comment upon it. Instead he now applies himself to alternating kisses and caresses to both his lady visitors, determined to bury his earlier signs of fear in the ardor of the moment. Amber's hands find Richard's belly once more and cross up over it's expanse to push the shirt back and over the curves of his shoulders, but once there, she waits, letting go of one side to reach out and snake her arm around Jenean's waist with a grin. "For all I enjoy the chair, with the three of us, I'm thinking something a bit more.. expansive might be nice." Jenean mms. Fingers trace across the back of his shoulders, along the line of the shirt, and her other hand trails along Amber's arm, across the back of her hand. From sideways on, she can kiss his cheek, coax him round to kiss his lips. Murmurs, mouth against his, "Though this *is* kinda cosy.." As black cloth drops backwards off his shoulders, baring them to the dim light, Richard can be felt to jolt ever so slightly. Not far below the line of those broad shoulders, Jen might well find a jagged, puckered track of flesh slanting down to vanish behind the shirt that now more hangs off the back of the chair than it does off its owner. Richard allows himself to be coaxed, allows himself to be drawn into another kiss with the woman just behind him, even as a back corner of his mind continues to cry warnings that grow increasingly muted by the pulse of his blood. _Pretend nothing's wrong, what could be wrong with two beautiful women in your arms, keep kissing, maybe they won't notice..._ "M'bed's cosier," he rasps then, barely audibly, his breath blending with Jen's, his lips only a hairsbreadth away from hers. Amber gets up and apparently notices nothing at all, sliding off the side of Richard that is opposite Jenean and dragging her body against his in the same move. Her fingers trail over the chest and she grins at Jenean over his head, "Then what exactly did you have in mind?" She winks broadly at the other woman, teasing Richard by speaking as if he were not here, or at the very least had no choice in the matter. "Well..." Punctuated by kisses. "Did look t'me as though y'were all set." She chuckles mischeviously, and tugs his shirt down a little further, pinning his arms, before leaning across him to kiss Amber. Well, now, Richard's arms aren't _that_ constricted; his shirt has been unlaced and unbuttoned, after all. But it does cause him a moment of consternation as he has to figure out exactly how to get the ebon cloth free of his elbows. Any further odd details about his back are temporarily obscured, though, as Jenean presses up close against him in order to reach the other woman's mouth. Pinned as he is, his throat going dry, Richard turns his face towards both women and drawls as casually as he can manage, "D'ye... wish me to leave ye two be?' Amber moans happily and then breaks the kiss with a laugh. She peers down at Richard. "Are you one of the rare ones, then? Those that -don't- dream of being able to watch.. this?" Amber reaches across his body to tenderly caress the line of Jenean's busom and waist. Laughter. "I don' buy that fer a minute." Jen arches against Amber's hand, purrs. She steals another kiss off Richard, one arm round his neck. "Can't... exactly see much right now," Richard points out breathlessly, avoiding getting into the topic of what exactly comprises his dreams. He's right, though. With one woman pressed up close to his front and the other pressed up close behind, vision is not the dominant sense being put to use here. Then more of his breath is stolen away by the latest of Jen's kisses, while a tautness across the front of his trousers relays his body's reaction to all this activity in no uncertain terms. Amber chuckles, watching the pair with a broad grin, "There's nothing stoping you from participating, Richard.." She reaches down and runs her hand between the back of his shirt and his skin, palm gliding over smooth and scared skin alike. You sense Amber's touch tingles, probably from the tension it provokes at being so close to what was so long hidden. But what is left behind is not Healed, but at least more pliable, more flexable, than scar tissue has a right to be. Jenean drapes arms around his neck, straddling him as Amber did, and kissing again. Her hands rove instinctively across his shoulder, like Amber seeming not to care what she touches. Amber senses "Richard's flesh is scarred there, aye; the scars are old ones, deep ones. In the heat of passion little more can be sensed without spending more attention... or more magic." Caught between the activity of Amber's hands and Jenean's kisses, Richard is most assuredly not able to see much at the moment. A deeper groan escapes him as his eyes flutter closed, his head tilting backwards. The only thing keeping him from falling entirely back into Jen's embrace is the back of the chair. An almost other-worldly hunger sits in Amber's eyes and her fingers never leave Richard's and her chest rises and falls in time with his own breathing, as if she could feel something.. more. She bends down, her hair falling around Richard's back and chest as her teeth graze the flesh where his neck joins his shoulder. "Mmm. Come to bed, you two.." She peers at them both from close range with a wicked grin. Jenean pauses, long enough for nimble fingers to undo her blouse, and shrug it off, Hands cup her breasts, with a smile, eyes half-lidded, at Richard. "What d'ya think, sweetheart? Bed, mmm?" She stretches arms over her head, then rises, presenting her bosom to be kissed and suckled. "Or should we jus' stay here?" 'Bed'. Up until now, Richard had not been aware that that single word could inflame his senses, that one syllable could carry a wealth of promise. But up until now, he had never had the experience of two accomplished cyprians having their merry way with him, either. The nip of Amber's teeth along the base of his neck provokes a sharp gasp out of him; the sight of Jen's revealed cleavage sends a fresh hot bolt of desire winging through him, ripping down the mask of controlled neutrality that so often dominates his expression, turning his gaze a searing shade of blue. "Bed," he moans in agreement. That back corner of his mind blurts out one last warning -- but now, Richard is incapable of hearing it. He doesn't know whether he gets up off his own accord or lets the women pull him to his feet; nor does he notice as the black shirt falls, abandoned, to lie along the seat of the chair. He doesn't know who makes it to the bed first. And for a time... he knows nothing but bliss. [End log.]