Locus, meanwhile, looks...rumpled. Flushed. Not a look he enjoys, and though they are alone here there is an acute sense of vulnerability that he does not care for. He swallows, attempting to straighten himself again until the weight of York's hold.

"It's...been some time," he explains, after a moment to catch his breath and compose himself. Quite the feat, considering how his nerve endings still sing. There's a sense of something missing, something he needs, gnawing at him from the inside, but--

Time. Just a little more.