[It's repetitive work, but it's not uncomfortable work. Taryon must use his delicate nobleman fingers for more rigorous work than he us used to, and as he digs into the man's shoulder muscles, he can hear the deep, long moans over his loud chewing. He shifts in his seat partway though, something about his position being unbearable in his current state.
"Hey, pretty boy. I need a rest for my feet." The man scoots his seat to better face the other the men at the table, stretches out as if this were a reclining chair, and spreads his legs. In one hand, he swirls the goblet of wine. "Right here," he adds when he taps his heels on the floor.
Taryon glances at Lord Karnon, who does not look back nor offer assurances. He kneels by the guest's feet, avoiding looking at his face. The man raises his legs.
Taryon drops his head and crawls forth. As he feared, those heavy, weary feeta drop onto his back.
Oh gods, he realizes that the man is kicking off his shoes, and he can smell his socks.]
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"Hey, pretty boy. I need a rest for my feet." The man scoots his seat to better face the other the men at the table, stretches out as if this were a reclining chair, and spreads his legs. In one hand, he swirls the goblet of wine. "Right here," he adds when he taps his heels on the floor.
Taryon glances at Lord Karnon, who does not look back nor offer assurances. He kneels by the guest's feet, avoiding looking at his face. The man raises his legs.
Taryon drops his head and crawls forth. As he feared, those heavy, weary feeta drop onto his back.
Oh gods, he realizes that the man is kicking off his shoes, and he can smell his socks.]