[ kaveh speaks. his tone would flay the skin off of a prone sumpterbeast with its desiccating sting. a lesser man would have looked behind him to see if he had lost skin. alhaitham, with his face still pressed into the warm recess of his bed, revises his opinion - he is the only one who remembers, and perhaps, there is potentially one more. it's that thought that has him turning his head, finally, to look to where kaveh is still sitting, kneeled, like an ornament on the prow of some ship waiting to be sunk. there's a proud tilt to his head that feeds into the illustrious descriptions of him circulated in various circles: a golden foal, the toss of an arrogant head, a little princeling down to to the last fiber of his being. he is not, alhaitham notes, wearing remotely enough to leave anything to the imagination. that is, certainly, the intent. he is also furious.

of course he is.

alhaitham observes him for a moment. he doesn't bother to get up; there is, in fact, no obligation to do so. kaveh's spitfire temper illuminates the carved edges of his vermilion eyes, and alhaitham thinks that flames burn more than just flesh. it burns soul. ]

You have let your emotions cloud your judgement. [ is what alhaitham says instead, because nothing that kaveh had said is worth addressing. not by him. ] You kneel out of mere spite, when swallowing your pride and working circulation in your legs will ensure that when the rare opportunity comes for your chain to slack, you will be able to run. You must have memorised the route here, at the very minimum? You would know that one of the western window overlooks an aqueduct pressed against the outside wall. You would have heard its splashing, and known that it could not be guarded.