Quintus chuckled at the elf’s murmur. The small smile that twitched at his mouth disappeared in an instant when Darrian bent closer. His muscles tensed and he almost leaned away. However, when Darrian’s lips landed on his cheek instead, Quintus relaxed. A heavy sigh left the man. He ran a hand along Darrian’s shoulder, sliding the palm down to the young man’s hand. Gripping the hand a bit more roughly than he would have if he was sober, he glanced off to the side of the room. It wasn’t certain where his gaze was looking. The look was one of drunken vagueness.
“Darri…” He murmured softly, “I know I’m dreadfully boring…” Quintus’s words were drawn out as he tried to make himself clear enough to understand, “Could…we just lay together?” A weary smile appeared on his lips. The man didn’t want to admit to Darrian that he was actually having trouble getting his blood to rise. He knew his body well enough to know when it wouldn’t cooperate. It had nothing to do with Darrian or the mood, but was entirely the fault of alcohol and age. He had hoped he’d be able to give Darrian one more go before his time was up, but that didn’t seem to be what would happen. Feeling a bit embarrassed, Quintus continued to hold Darrian’s hand hoping the young man wouldn’t push the issue. Though he kept in his mind that failing at love was a lot more bearable when it was with a whore in comparison to some person from a bar. The thought made Quintus feel a little better.