Well, if you really want a peek at my ledger, it's on the table over there.

[He gives a lazy point, not much more than a gesture from the wrist.

He feels good pressed against him, soft at his throat. Such as he can in this mood, he allows the distraction of it. It helps a little.]

I'd forgive you.

[The fact that he thinks he wouldn't points it as a step too far.]

And you haven't failed at anything, dear. I promise you that.

[He rubs slow circles over his back, avoiding sensitive areas deftly.]