With gentle hands, Kaz glides his fingers softy against the crease of her hip, the bones of her shoulders, the bow of her lips. Inej watches him quietly as he explores her skin, his touch gentle, his gaze appreciative. "Sankta Inej," he murmurs and chuckles as she hides her face beneath the cover of her hands; he bows his head to try and thieve away her blush.