Mirza sighed as Shae made to leave, obviously stinging from his reaction to the chafed places on his wrists. Carefully, he scooted out of bed as he was damned sore and stepped over to him, settling a hand on Shae's bare chest. "I'm sorry. Over reacting. I'm a vain little thing and this really will affect my work... But, maybe makeup can cover it."
He tried to find the words to explain for a moment before they slid into place, "Part of it... is the illusion that the dancer on stage can be yours, completely. If they get marked up too bad, that illusion is broken, you know? Don't be upset with me for being angry. It was good. Weirdly intense but good." Mirza peered up at Shae through his eyelashes, trying to look coy and sweet.