The monk pulled his eyes off the body that rest outside his quarters, though only by a frightening level of effort that struck him nervous. In the quiet of the still, sleeping hall he retreated to his bedroom, sitting at the side of the bed and turning over the knife that lay on the sidetable. He mused, of where Ardnt came from, how he got here, the crimes committed. Luitwin was no stranger to working with sinners, but this man in particular... compelled him, in a way. He shook off his thoughts, dressed down to his underclothes and buried himself in bed best he could with a single blanket, trying to assume that it was simply all of the change and stress of the new trip that had gotten to him.<br/><br/>It was difficult to find relief, and sleep, Luitwin found himself staring at the wall for however long before his hand fell over his thigh to palm his cock through his linens. He shut his eyes and turned his head to sigh into the pillow, half hard from the slew of mental imagery all too easily conjured in that sick head of his. Luitwin was no stranger to these urges, he spent enough years running from the shadow of his own carnal desires. The bodies of men rougher than he, the memory of a calloused hand gingerly touching his in thanks as he offered a laborer medicine, the thought of the same hand running over his body like warm leather. Eventually the monk found himself fully dedicated to his growing arousal, keeping his ministrations slow and quiet, wary of the wooden walls so much more thin than the stone he was used to. Luitwin felt himself too weak to try and combat the introduction of Ardnt into this night's fetishistic display. How taut the man felt under his needle. The sight of stray drivlets of water running down his scarred chest when rubbed clean. How strong he was when he grabbed him by the wrists--<br/><br/>The stiff body of the monk shuddered beneath his covers, nose buried in the straw pillow to keep his labored breaths muffled when he poured into his own hand. Luitwin stayed motionless for some time, struggling to be frustrated with himself when attacked by the euphoria that had started to peter out. As soon as he felt himself stable he gathered himself from bed, pulled up his stockings and put on his top robe to cover up where he had dampened the corner of his shirt with his flluids. He snuck to the bath in his day slippers, quickly leaning over a barrel to scrub at the mess he made. Luitwin couldn't help to think that he was getting too old for this, still a slave to his own imagination. Over the years he had bargained with himself that not acting on these whims kept him in good grace with god, it was the execution that distanced one's self with the church, was it not? But regardless of this struggle to rationalize his use of privacy, it still proved troublesome. At least he found himself too righteous to pin the blame on his teacher back when he began to study medicine, no, this was his own fault. Luitwin relieved himself, tired, before shrugging out of the room.<br/><br/>Luitwin removed his shoes on the way back, leaving them at the door after quietly shutting it behind him. He was thankful that he didn't have to encounter anyone to and fro. He fell back on the bed as gently as he could, robe hanging on the backboard. However late into the night he could finally rest.<br/><br/>The hustle of sailors through the walls as they prepared for the new day was what woke him up, he felt sluggish, but pulled his sash and beads around himself, dressing up for a hopefully uneventful morning. When he left the room, the bin of dirtied rags had disappeared, picked up by cabin boy. He wasn't expecting to see Ardnt awake, but pushed away his surprise to greet him warmly, as if the man wasn't the source of his personal affections the night prior. However Ardnt seemed to just demand a show to the toilets unceremoniously, causing the monk to falter. "A- ah, yes, I imagine you do. Thank you for not walking about, I'm sure the captain appreciates this. We don't have to mention the reasonable suspicions, do we...?" He set a hand up on Ardnt's shoulder before showing him to the hall, "I'll lead you to the head, you'd do well to wash up a bit while you're there, yes?" The ship was large, but they soon found the place, a small series of boxed in rooms, one had a series of slatted boxes, typical of any toilet, but behind the back door was a bath. Luitwin left the man to prepare some hot water the next room over, waiting for his accompanyment.<br/><br/>The room itself wasn't large, compact with a bench, a tall slot along the wall much like one would see for cannons, but instead used to bring up salt water. He lit the short stove and set a tin bucket of water on to boil, setting his robe to hang and rolling up his sleeves. It wasn't out of place at all to help with bathing, especially someone who had trouble moving their arms due to injuries, and in Ardnt's special case, sutures. The last thing he wanted was for the man to rip them out through effort. That being said, Luitwin was aware of the implications of being not the least bit hesitant to do this, a little on the enthusiastic side, even. But to let that affect his good judgement would've been a greater crime than living in fear of himself, he reasoned.