He's startled by the way Josh seems to stumble on his words - this was strange. And rare. He knows what moment Josh is thinking of though: a warm summer off the coast of Naples, the two of them softened by the sea breeze as they made love on the shore like a pair of feral nereids and Alecto had gasped when he came, hand in Josh's golden hair, pushing the strands up off his forehead to admire him, his own personal adonis -

"Oh, falla finita," he groans under his breath before lifting the volume of his voice, "Joshua, wait." He wonders if he'll regret this later.

Alecto goes to the door in a few quick steps, grabbing Josh's upper arm to prevent him from leaving entirely. He's warm, always has been. It feels like holding the sun in the palm of his hand.

"Stay a while." A beat. Quickly, he adds, "I need a lot more context for those images. Unless you plan on setting me up for failure and embarrassment. Sit. I'll make tea and we can discuss."