They'd made measurable distance before recognition brought hushed tones close between the pair, a compliment in their contrast. The pretty tenor was lyrical despite its muddled words, and in response there came flat, clipped growls of a man who seemed -- on second, third glance -- to keep growing in girth and breadth with each new glance.
The whore turned once more, a hand resting sure on the other man's bicep. But that focus -- oh, that unfettered gaze -- had befallen the other writer once more.