"I was thirsty," said Simon mildly. "I take it you don't want any, then?"
A gentle clink as he set the glass down on a table; then he was circling Roger slowly, like a hawk gliding over a particularly delectable-looking rabbit or something, fingertips barely brushing over bare skin.
One full perambulation later, and he was again behind Roger's back.
"Do you think," he inquired in that same mild tone, "I could have your hands back here for a moment?"