<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4040bf"><div style="text-align: center">Of course, poor Roger was a naive sod and had no idea that Edwin was a prostitute and positioning him for a free session. He had never gone to the prostitutes for anything but had helped a few learn how to read in order to draw their minds away from their daily life- some enjoyed their work while others didn't. But those had been females he had helped, those bold enough that he had passed by on his way to work who had asked for him by face and said in the softest of voices as if ashamed to learn how to read. He himself thought it a tragedy that so many couldn't read and enjoy the worlds portrayed by books with their beautiful phrases and catching words. Roger gave the constable a nod and did his best to keep his composure properly in place. He would never admit that he sometimes would just stare at the constable while making his rounds, fascinated by his line of work. Roger wasn't a weakling, just a pacifist by nature. Scanning the selection, the young librarian grabbed a thick volume of Shakespeare and was about to hand it to Edwin for inspection when he felt that delicate touch. <br/>
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He swallowed and placed the book back, feeling the hand trailing down further along his body before stopping at his stomach. He listened to Edwin's voice, soft with question and emotion he couldn't quite identify. Well, he could, but he'd heard it spoken from the mouths of women and not of men, though he had wondered...Cheeks red as apples, he glanced at Edwin and felt nervousness seep into his bones as he looked up at him. He was a handsome man, for sure, and probably very experienced, though not in the way that Roger thought. He had always figured that Edwin was somewhat like Casanova and made love with the noblewomen and noblemen alike at his choosing. Swallowing again, Roger turned his attention back to the question that was asked of him.<br/>
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"I don't truly have a favourite...They all paint such beautiful stories..."<br/>
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He murmured, his voice dropping an octave, making it sound slightly husky with either fear, desire, nerves, or all three. The poor man was a romantic at heart and wondered briefly if Edwin might end up breaking his poor heart. He enjoyed seeing the man visit as often as he did, sometimes wanting it more than anything. He had a small crush, he admitted with a bite of his bottom lip. He just wasn't sure at the moment what dear Edwin wanted of him. And with the constable so near, whatever it was would get them both arrested for sure..​</div></span>