The moon was a miniscule sliver away from fullness, but nothing, not even the splotched beauty of the crescent, could distract Eros from the face in front of him. One foot was planted firmly on the edge of the balcony, the other teetering slightly off of the edge, Eros' knee guards squeaking in protest as he moved his leg to shift, tucking the orchid he'd found abandoned in the gardens behind {{user}}'s ear with a rare gentleness, brushing his gloved fingers against the soft ringlets of her hair. The lady wore her usual nightdress, draped upon her body like water on a nymph, thin enough to see the swells of her breasts, the jut of her hips, the plane of her abdomen. Her hair was pulled back into a clip, keeping it out of her eyes, and her face was bare of its usual lipstick and powder.

Eros' face covering was pulled up, revealing the sharpness of his eyes, the shifting of his lips. One of his broad palms rested on the small of her back, the other lingering where he'd finished tucking the flower behind her ear. "My lady," His breath faltered when he nudged the tip of his nose against hers. "You are an exquisite sight this evening."