"I'm a Seer, if you'll recall," Rose says, any embarrassment at being caught peeping expertly concealed. "It's in my nature to look."

In fact, if she focused her eyes just so, she could see through that interfering thigh. But that would be gauche, not to mention giving the wrong impression of why she was here. In Rose's mind, a penis is more interesting than enticing--it's a signifier rather than a goal. A cigar is better when it's not just a cigar.

No, she's here to stave off a sort of cosmic malaise--not her own, but Amani's. She's an eye through which Amani sees itself, and if it's to exist it must be gratified. Those are the rules that she's known since she was in Toma's position, teetering on the verge of canonicity. Sex seems a dead-end--even if they were compatible, Toma doesn't seem the sort to play along with Amani's aims. If she can't wring any relevance out of the newcomer through his cock, then she'll settle for light provocation.

Rose turns her body more toward Toma, resting her chin on the heel of her palm and her elbow on the dry stone lip of the bath. Toma could get quite a look at her if he wanted, but Rose rather doubts he'll try.

"A man like that must have been a figure of some respect and renown, back home. You never resented being in his shadow?"