She did shield herself like a woman. How beautiful in modesty, when she couldn't possibly be like him, and therefor shouldn't have the reservations of his kind. Roan was intrigued, of course, the way all men are when a beauty crosses her arms over her well-grown softness. It was enough to remind him of what he liked to do, when women were at his disposal, as Iris was now. She was indulging his tantrum, and he was letting it grow. Lust played a part of it, but only to put a fire under his frustration.<br/><br/>It was like she'd been born like this, a grown woman, but without life's stories on her skin. He'd always though there had been character to her complexion, and that the sun had seen her too, but nothing he'd call flaws. Now he understood. She was completely unwritten, even though he'd signed her like some finished piece before. She looked like something completely new, with familiar eyes from the past. He supposed they really did hold the soul, then.<br/><br/>Her voice was lovely around his name. She was a plethora of drawing things, and he couldn't help but let it season this argument. He'd be opposed to indulging in debates for the novelty, but he wasn't a master of his principals, as they'd learned on his pillows. So sweet, her hand on his. Whatever otherworldly powers she had at her disposal, she summoned none of them to keep him here but whatever sentimentality she could draw on. Her desperation was beautiful, too. He wanted to take his arm away from her, if only to see her fret over it. Every person wanted to be desired like that. It seemed a little late for common human delights, now.<br/><br/>Roan didn't stand up. He turned back to her, clamoring to him, when her truth came out and saturated the bed sheets. The sockets of his eyes deepened and cast his gaze in shade when she laid out his value to her. A short sigh, as though he was the one who was bereft of air, but it was a more miserable sound through hard lips. There were so many things inside him. His aura was curling and waving, like false light. He put his hand over hers.<br/><br/>"Was it hard, being lonely?" He was trying to be reasonable with her. "Let me see." he said and then held her hands apart, to expose her once more. The next sigh was one of longing, even though there was no forgiveness to suggest intimacy. She had a lovely shell. It was new on her. How festive. His fingers left her hands, confident they'd stay out of his way since he held the leverage of his exit. The back of his hand stroked her cheek, down her neck, until his knuckles brushed over her breasts and carefully counted themselves over a bud, down her stomach.<br/><br/>It might have seemed affectionate, in some ways it was, but he was examining her as though he wasn't expecting human details. His eyes were thicker with anticipation's light, pooling in the tense tears that hadn't fallen. Sensitive, belligerent man. "You let me think there wasn't another world. You never liked my creations, only where they came from." he concluded. Roan shook the thought away. "Lay back down." through teeth. "I want to see what an angel looks like." Gnarling frustration, but also horrible curiosity.