A trip here shouldn't have begun in such stony sullenness, and a walk to the back room should have had him stumbling, drunk with arousal, to follow her instead of this cold, steady pace.
When she sat him on the bed he let his shoulders slump, downcast eyes staring at the ground as if it were at fault for his troubles. He absently rolled his shoulders to help with the cloak's removal. Once free of his cloak and boots he drew one foot onto the bed, resting an elbow on his knee. He was still chilled despite being indoors, and was glad of the warmth of her presence when she sat next to him. Ordhan loved when she rested her head on his shoulder like this. It was no seductive gesture, but something more companionable; though it was merely for coin, he liked the feeling that he was close to someone, anyone. He lifted the hand still on the coverlet to stroke her hair, but his cold gaze stayed fixed to the floor.
"I hate this city," was his hollow answer, and his brows knit into a scowl for a moment. "I wish I could leave."