Had Renly mentioned seeing someone professionally, Loras would have taken his clothes and left. But Loras was blissfully unaware of Renly's thoughts on that. He was only aware of the care the graceful would-be king took with him, a rarity to be sure. He looked down at their hands together. Renly's were larger, but they were less calloused, they were the hands of nobility.
"Are you happy, Renly?" Loras asked suddenly. He looked at Renly, his features sketched in hues of grey and blue in the pale moonlight that filtered through the curtains. It was like looking at some beautiful gothic painting and trying to map out each stroke of the artist's brush.