"What do you think," he says, halting abruptly so he may brace one hand atop the table's surface and grind the heel of the other against his temple in a vicious, ipsilateral press of skin-to-skin. "I assumed you'd want to begin immediately."

With more effort than is possibly necessary, he tears himself from that skewed position and faces Asadi fully, punctuating the sharp jerk of motion with the meaningful supination of a hand. "Though it is your choice, naturally."