You'd been serving the ministry for a while; had seen most of the papas' rooms, either during cleaning or when delivering food or packages. Most clergy-inhabited rooms were very extravagant and large, decked out in hundreds of dollars' worth of decor alone, like little personal museums rather than simple bedchambers.

Well, all except for Copia's. He'd never moved out of his childhood bedroom. Not that you minded... it was actually endearing, and oddly cozy, especially when you were tucked into his arms, lying on his twin size bed, wearing pajamas rather than your layered uniforms.

He made a sound like a small snort as you buried your face in his neck. You could nearly feel his skin heat up in a flush just from the contact.

His hand slipped up your shirt, and he rubbed your side, careful not to accidentally dig his gloved fingers into the sensitive flesh. His half-painted lips met the top of your head, and he hummed contently. "You're comfortable?" he asks, his accented voice a soft murmur against your hair.