One hand leaves Nathaniel's in order to comb through the long, auburn locks. He had seen the way leopards responded to touch enough times to know to rest his hand against the nape of Nathaniel's neck.

"No power of glamour can keep a true mark from the others' sight," he murmurs, his tone regretful. He knows the reaction that Nathaniel fears. He knows Anita will not disappoint. For a brief moment, he feels utterly powerless.

The feeling compels him to start gently scratching his nails at Nat's neck, friendly contact that they both now felt the need for.