There was something fitting, Hermes thought, in that they'd both clearly dressed for each other. He wondered how long it'd taken Carrick to settle on something, how different their natures were when it came to that, the whore knowing exactly how to please someone. Had Carrick fussed? Had he shouted at slaves in his frustration?
He sat smoothly, thanking the host and taking the menu before he acknowledged Carrick. "Thank you," he said to his master. His conversation with Alcuin had definitely done him some great good, but talking was an entirely different matter than actually doing something.
He couldn't leave Carrick. No matter how he thought it might be best for both of them, he couldn't bring himself to walk away. Even now, he could feel the ghost of a collar he hadn't worn in ages chafing at his throat, choking him. "You look nervous." The statement pulled a teasing smile from the corner of Hermes' mouth, the boy himself surprised to find it genuine. "It's just me, you know. No one special."
No one special especially not to the people in the restaurant already who Hermes had already bedded. Some part of him wished Carrick had chosen something far less befitting of his station. There were only a handful there that night, but he could feel their eyes on him. Maybe some who did what he had immediately forgot the touch of those they slept with for the sake of their own sanity, but Hermes remembered every single one. Carrick most of all.