[ambrose wraps his fingers around judar's, but not enough to hide the glass. ah yes. the red one.]

A little bit induces a pleasant sensation of heat, [he says.] A little more and there's a tingle. More, and there's an itch that only friction can sate -- at speed. [there's a mischief in his eyes, vulpine and dark. he studies judar with curiosity. the mage has always been measured in the kind of control he allows himself to lose. it was only in the hands of horrific torturers that he seemed to be truly overcome.

what will the mage choose, in the comfort of his own home? he's a different sort than the witches and warlocks that ambrose has fraternized with. ambrose studies him with interest.]

You might guess what the blue one does.