“Your stance is uneven and sloppy… Are you trying to embarrass yourself?” Rime chided lazily to the side, “My replacement, and yet levels beneath me.”

You feel his warmth slide behind you. Deft fingers press into your spine, gliding up its length to erect your posture. He then adjusts your feet, sliding them closer and turning one out at an angle.

“You shouldn’t take the advice of a drunken mercenary,” He whispered, breath hot against your neck, the smirk evident in his cadence.