Quentin glanced across to where the girl stood. Her chest - all but on display thanks to the shirt Quentin had selfishly selected for exactly that reason - glistened with a little of the mess that had spread through the fabric and against her skin. There were dark patches on her clothes and although to an outside observer they might be water or similar, each of Quentin and Zoey knew all too well what it was that made the clothes cling tight in place. The knowledge warmed Quentin and stirred him toward excitement, though it had been too recent for it to be anything other than a small echo of the thought.<br/><br/>He smiled and stepped forward, hand briefly rising up to cup her cheek. His fingers hooked against the back of her jaw and his palm followed to the line of it, with his thumb stretched up across her cheek to rub easily back and forth. It was an affectionate gesture, and that was solidified with a warm smile in her direction and a nod. "For the moment, Slave Zoey." The name was a clear mockery of what she'd called him, though he wouldn't have it any other way. His hand fell away. "You have a lot to learn, but for today at least your efforts are enough. You surpass my approval." His eyes slid from where her chest had caught his attention toward her legs, which were still slightly trembling. He nodded intently.<br/><br/>"Are you able to walk far? Do we need to wait a while?" He was willing to, he decided. There was no good to come from expecting her to suddenly gain some previously hidden physical strength, however unreasonable he sometimes might be. His good mood, and charitable streak, continued. His head nodded again, and a sly, almost boyish grin slid onto his face. He was not one to shy from being dirty or cruel, but for a change he put the question to her. "And your cunt? How long til that's ready for more?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>