"What are you talking about, I-I'm as serene as..."

As a lake. As a smooth glass mirror. As a sleeping cat. Whatever Sorrel was going to claim as his exemplar for calmness is lost in the hitch of breath and a little gasp when Adasse moves against him. Whatever it is, it's certainly no calmer than he is, assuredly.

Well, mostly. There's a fairly specific portion of Sorrel's anatomy which is anything but relaxed.

"Actually I lied, I'm terribly stressed," Says the man who just finished being given a relaxing scalp-massage in a hot, flower-scented bath, "Please, Adasse. Only you can help me... relax."

The word will be ruined, by the end of this.