Yet, [the syllable drips with desire, no more masked than what Lucius has already noticed.] You have not informed me if you made your move or not.

[Eridanus shifts from his lounging posture, and brings that clawed hand that had gouged holes in his pantsleg as if his fraying control depended on it, up to his collar. One long, glimmering talon hooks into the knot of his tie, loosing it from his neck, so that he can undo the top two buttons of his shirt.]

If you are feeling peckish, my Lord, then I'll be sure to best you quickly so that you may feast. [He leans towards the board once more, his claw hovering over the pieces,] is it your turn... or mine?