Vetinari looked at the toes of the woman standing before him. His eyes slid slowly upwards, taking in every detail of her naked body. She stood perfectly still and when he reached her eyes, he suddenly had the impression that while he might be the one fully clothed, he was far more vulnerable than she.
She there stood in – what? It wasn't a posture of defiance and it wasn't defeat. It wasn't hatred or disgust. It wasn't the stance of a prostitute – it was not flaunting or coquettish or coy. And it was, most definitely, not fear. He'd seen enough cloaked fear in his office that now he could smell it as it walked through the door.
No, she stood there as though the air was simply a different garment he'd asked her to wear, no different than the pile of clothes now circling her feet.
This is confidence, he thought. Perfect, pure, peaceful confidence. It was rare to find it in commanders and kings, let alone a naked kitchen servant standing before the supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork.
And it's damn bloody unsettling.
He felt unbalanced, and Vetinari did not like that feeling. He stepped forward to set the world straight.
Vetinari unfolded himself from the chair and stepped to stand in front of her. Easily a foot taller than she, he knew the effect he made as he towered over people. Slim fingers slid and cupped one breast, and he rubbed his thumb over the nipple. He pursed his lips ever so slightly, pleased to see it tighten and stand erect.
"No," she said flatly.
Ah, here it is, he thought, now comes the defiance or fear or shame or bargaining, or any of the other dozen expected reactions. Now he was on firmer ground. He smiled ever so slightly as the world rocked back into place.
"No, no, no, this is not right," she muttered. She reached up and cupped his chin in one hand, pressing the back of her other hand against his forehead.
"W-what?" The world gave a tiny hiccough.
"Not at all right." She grasped his face and pulled it towards hers, peering with a frown into each of his eyes in turn.
"What?" And now, a wobble.
She patted his cheeks and looked directly into his eyes. "There's far too much orange here."
"WHAT?!" The world took an abrupt ninety-degree turn to the left and went arse over elbow.
Vetinari was immediately aware of two facts. One – he had just stepped on a duck which heretofore had remained unseen, as there was no possible way the noise he had just heard had originated from his throat, and Two – he was in a very small room with a naked, insane woman.
This was not the evening he had planned.