It is only when the Dark Urge reaches for the wash at his waist to untie it that it dawns on Gortash that he knows he's marked from earlier in the evening. He's always been easy to bruise, not that he is sure that could have been avoided either way. He felt them rising and dull through the night, even itching on occasion but by the time he had gotten out of his clothes and into the tub there they were: near-purple marks that perfectly matched the grasp of his lover in the throes of passion.

Not as egregious as the first time, where the Dark Urge had left deeper and larger marks in similar places.

But in the moment, he had to ask himself for several reasons whether it was safe to reveal that. Would it induce the bhaalspawn's bloodlust to override any other and seek deeper marks? The kind that leave scars? The kind that kill? Does it make him appear weaker, perhaps too frail to handle?

Are they ugly?

There's hesitation, and a blush forms in his cheeks as his eyes cast themselves toward the fire.

But the pause there pulls his eyes back to his companion's. That he was waiting. That he was asking, if wordlessly.

Enver takes a steadying breath, and finally a short, assenting nod.