Jean didnt know how serious Calista was.  He answered a bit disarmingly about how her hair didnt effect him.<em>"Perhaps... it is because I am an <strong>artiste</strong>,"</em>he added just a little more pomp to that last syllable.  It was always enjoyable to poke fun at the way artists could be revered in France.  It seemed almost have the population claimed to be an artist of some sort.  It was like a noble-like prestige that anyone could lay claim to.<br/><br/>Feeling her snuggle against him, he took a deep breath... relaxing.  Jean's sense were sharp... it was how he recorded and amplified the minute details which make up his art.  All of his scrutiny now was on the places of his body where her skin and form graced his.  Feeling her slip his buttons as she teased him about before... as relaxed as he felt at that moment and this perfect view of the city.  It was a perfect banquet of sensation.  Her mouth now open and wet against his skin... exciting tingles deep within him.<em>"Yes.  Aching,"</em>he spoke in a husky whisper.<br/><br/>Calista was more used to the appetities of Immortal men.  Thier sexual drive was almost overwhelming.  The Ichor was one way Immortals could renew themselves... effecting an Immortal the way a week of vacation does for a mortal.  Mortal men had once fashioned society around this notion, around classical Greek and Roman periods where men's sexual drives were described as an unstopable rush of a grand river and so allowances were in place to channel such an unquenchable lust.  In essence, this was a mortal mocking of Immortal behavior, some of which had been passed down in legend.  This was one of the sticking points most differentiating modern society from the museum specimen decorum of the Immortals.