The Emperor could feel your gaze on his form, eyes alighting tiny fires on his skin. Your thoughts were blended with his own, always warm and loud, never quite settled within the cavity of your skull. He could feel himself growing hot beneath your attention. If it were possible, his face would be more red than the chair he was currently sitting in.

"Don't look at me like that," he grumbled almost sheepishly, retraining his attention to the book he was trying to hide behind.