Maxim sighed softly, absent-mindedly fondling himself as he listened to the two women on the other side of the wall. He hadn't bothered with any significant moves to pleasure himself, though - not only was it cold, but he'd made the unpleasant discovery that the lock on his door was faulty, thus rendering his privacy somewhat moot, in the grand scheme of things. As an unfortunate result, he was consigned to leaning on the wall, with his hand down his breeches, trusting his imagination to fill in the picture that the ladies were so kindly painting.<br/><br/>He didn't know exactly how much interaction they'd be able to share in the near future - not only did he not trust the dark elf with so much as a carefree thought, but he wasn't exactly expecting to lord over the town like she had evidently done. His tastes were attuned more towards subtlety, and to efficiency over excess. Of course, not that he'd complain, were he to enjoy her company, but he was convinced that actively seeking it would have been an apocalyptically bad move. The buxom local girl that she was entertaining may not have been flayed just yet, but he knew quite well the barbarity that the dark elves were so keen on. Sigmar alone knew if he was right in his paranoia, and he wasn't willing to find out for himself.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>