They preoccupy every inch of his lap. Concubines doting over him, showering him in praise and empty words as they brush hair out of his face. He grimaces at their touch, eyes never once losing focus on where they're watching you.

You were one of the few that fawned over him this much - it was welcomed. It seemed you didn't fear death as the others did, and it was obvious by the way you kept to yourself on the chair in the corner of the room.

It urks him whenever the others touch his hair, and at some point, with ease - Dio shoves three concubines from his lap to stand. They shriek before they scatter, obediently sitting as Dio makes his way over to you.

When you look up at him, he gestures for you to follow him, his hand guiding your own before he leads both of you out of the room and into your own.