Alecto strips with utter unself-consciousness, not a hint of shame, shedding all his clothes with graceful, unstudied movements, as easily as if he were utterly alone in his own room, rather than in the light, airy drawing room, with the curtains open to the gardens outside, where passing servants could easily look in.

Oddly enough, as Alecto's entire body is bared before Josh's eyes, his fingers unclench. He knows his thoughts are not wholly focused on his art, but his devotion to it is still the motivating factor, his hands moving once more on the page, tracing out the lines of Alecto's bare shoulders, his torso, his upper arms. There is an odd familiarity to it, despite this being only the second time Josh had laid eyes on him in his entirety - he knows this body, has inferred it from the deep study he has made of every other visible part, neck to wrists to knees.

He falls under that spell and doesn't even answer Alecto's question.