The door is of no real concern to Vena. It's comfort that he seeks currently, not privacy. Privacy is a very human concept brought on by a sense of shame. Shame, which is something a demon like Vena does not feel. He simply doesn't see the need to hide himself away behind closed doors, and conduct himself in hushed tones like some humans do. If he wants to get screwed out in the open, there's nothing stopping him. Especially not here. Vena fully intends to learn how every surface in this compound feels against his bare skin.
For now, his room will do. That's not to say that this is where they'll stay, but it'll do for now. Vena lets his head fall back against the top of the chair and rolls it to one side so he can watch Feurian cross the room, admire the way his body moves beneath the silks. Even without having tried the elf out for himself (yet), he can see why this one might've caught Nagare's eye.
"A true pity," Vena echoes, his tone sounding not entirely unlike that of a petulant child. Truthfully, coming here to find out he could start taking clients almost immediately was about as warm a welcome as he could get. He's even already gotten himself a small collection of gifts given to him for the pleasure of his company. Those are the only things, currently, that mark this as Vena's own private room. He hasn't really taken the time to make it his own yet.
Vena picks up his head only once Feurian grows closer, eyes following the instrument as he sets it down. Neither of them ever thought he was going to play. No one who saw Feurian approaching Vena's room with the instrument in hand believed he would play a single note. There is a reason why someone may visit an incubus and music is not it.
Ah but he's a large one, isn't he? So tall and broad. Muscular. A far cry from the lithe, fragile looking thing that's practically draping himself over the chair now. It would be easy to mistake the smaller one as the weaker of the two. A mistake not often repeated.
Vena hums thoughtfully as he stretches one leg out to hang over the arm of the chair, the robe sliding off to the side to expose his thigh. "Give in to me, and give in to your urges."
why yes, hunky service worker~
For now, his room will do. That's not to say that this is where they'll stay, but it'll do for now. Vena lets his head fall back against the top of the chair and rolls it to one side so he can watch Feurian cross the room, admire the way his body moves beneath the silks. Even without having tried the elf out for himself (yet), he can see why this one might've caught Nagare's eye.
"A true pity," Vena echoes, his tone sounding not entirely unlike that of a petulant child. Truthfully, coming here to find out he could start taking clients almost immediately was about as warm a welcome as he could get. He's even already gotten himself a small collection of gifts given to him for the pleasure of his company. Those are the only things, currently, that mark this as Vena's own private room. He hasn't really taken the time to make it his own yet.
Vena picks up his head only once Feurian grows closer, eyes following the instrument as he sets it down. Neither of them ever thought he was going to play. No one who saw Feurian approaching Vena's room with the instrument in hand believed he would play a single note. There is a reason why someone may visit an incubus and music is not it.
Ah but he's a large one, isn't he? So tall and broad. Muscular. A far cry from the lithe, fragile looking thing that's practically draping himself over the chair now. It would be easy to mistake the smaller one as the weaker of the two. A mistake not often repeated.
Vena hums thoughtfully as he stretches one leg out to hang over the arm of the chair, the robe sliding off to the side to expose his thigh. "Give in to me, and give in to your urges."