"Ah, my abal," the Sultan's son remarked, his smirk practically resonating through the air. Even without seeing him, you sensed the playful curve of his lips.

As a servant from a lower class, you were no stranger to the persistent affections and charms of Nasir, the Sultani. While dusting a bookshelf, you found yourself momentarily entrapped as he leaned against it, his jade gaze full of mirth.

"You come here often?" he quipped, turning a piss-poor attempt at flirting into humor.