'Ohhhh,' Unthank hums, pleased and surprised. He'd not expected that, but it is fascinating, and his interest shows plainly in his face, no effort made to hide it. 'Can you indeed?'

Johnny's up against the wall, nowhere left for him to retreat, but Unthank takes another step forward that leaves them a scant foot apart, Johnny pressed against the wood with the fire, rather pleasingly, casting Unthank's shadow flickeringly over him. He lifts one hand in a thoughtful, deliberate motion, fingers spread, thumb held out in a delicate gesture as though he were about to conduct an orchestra, or sketch something invisible in midair.

Instead, he lets it fall again to Johnny's neck, fingertips describing a line just above his collarbone, dragging in the hollow of his throat. The pulse there drums wildly.

'What sort of things can you do, pray tell?'