Zevran's cadence was flawless. Perfect pitch, perfect delivery, so much so that Jack found himself listening raptly, as well as with a slowly growing warmth that began in his chest and creeped out along his veins, all the way to the tips of his ears by the end of the explanation. Confession? Nothing quite felt like a confession with Zevran, who delivered every new thing like a simple fact he had only not bothered to mention aloud, but the narrative was surely as close as he came.

It did not escape Jack, either, what word among all the versatile ones available Zevran returned to again and again. He smiled slightly, pink below the spotting of winter-paled freckles as he rubbed slowly along the line of the elf's neck, gathering an adequate response for that ambitious bit of wordplay.

"I . . . we, Gene and I. We don't take what we're sure hasn't been given to us." He looked down, seeking out Zevran's eyes, corner of his mouth curling more surely. "And it seems especially unconscionable to take someone who's actually been sold in his lifetime, especially with that sort of thing being illegal in our world."

He laughed softly, then turned his head, kissing the hand that had been resting against his cheek. The admission came bashfully, something he'd not intended to confess any time soon, if only for Zevran's sake. He was the man who'd insisted again and again, after all, that he could not be held or bound by conventional rules. "That doesn't mean that the temptation to take isn't there. But it doesn't seem right."