Tears pricked in Karim's eyes, shame dropping his stomach, seeing Kiri's agony at being around him, at calling him master. The reprimand,<i> don't you dare call me that</i>, was unnecessary. Karim, in his usual deep empathy, already knew the source of the trouble. When he was wrapped in Kiri's arms, he burrowed his head into the taller man's collarbone and wrapped his own arms around him, no longer standing on ceremony.<br/><br/>"Kiri," he muttered into his collarbone. His sand-colored fox ears, ridiculously too large for his head, poked out and pressed to his head.<br/><br/>"I thought I'd never see you again," Karim said, his voice thick. "Not in a hundred years. I always thought of you. I always hoped you were well." Tears welled up from Karim's eyes, wetting Kiri's collarbone and the hem of his shirt.<br/><br/>Karim pulled back a bit and rubbed his thumb, the skin rough from hard work, gently over Kiri's face, wiping his tears away.<br/><br/>His fox ears perked and he buried his head in his collar again, the soft ears brushing against Kiri's cheek.<br/><br/>Karim wagged his tail, a sign of wanting to play Kiri would remember. Eyeing the master nearby, the one who had reached out to Kiri as if to steady him, Karim shyly drew Kiri into a nearby room, which when entered turned out to be a sitting room.<br/><br/>Just amazed at touching him again, Karim pulled him down to sit with him and rubbed Kiri, soothing him, smiling tearfully into his face. He tried to massage the tension from his shoulders, with an ease of practice—he had been taught the art of massage by the Archduke's staff. But his hands had been softer then, as they were calloused now, and he worried his tough pads scraped him instead of soothed him.