It is a wild inversion, two opposing poles finding themselves converging. A creature of wild abandon with the power to contain that part of himself, imbued in him as a means to control the temple that has risen up around the flesh he springs from. Gifted one brought up to be a paragon of rigid power and dominance, discovering in himself his own capacity for wantonness through submission and fighting it with every fiber of his being. The folly of a mortal Chosen that their god experiences only through them: Duality.

But Enver Gortash hears that one word and he takes it for what it is to him: Proof that whatever it is he has forced himself to be in the moment, it is working. And he has to chase that even if it threatens to uncouple anything he is holding back.

He would be directed otherwise if he were moving incorrectly, but he finds himself suddenly trapped in a moment he had not anticipated: that feeling that he has stumbled into a feeling that seizes control of all else. Ripples of pleasure overriding every sense that calls him to move with more intention, gripping harder and longer and pursuing with mindless need.

He's not silent. He tries to be. The last bastion of anything that is holding itself back, but it's a foolish errand. The best he can do is to clap a hand over his mouth when the crescendo reaches too high and he's suddenly aware of the spectacle he's making of himself but too far in to reign it in again.