I had grown use to his strange speech by now. I also knew that we would never marry and start a family. As one of the Faceless Men, he does not even have an identity, and probably should not be loving me.
"No, a man is only a man," he said mostly to himself while holding my chin, eyes glinting.
Strong arms wrapped around me, holding me close. My face was pressed into a man's chest and his soft shirt. He did not smell of sweat and dirt as most men. Instead he smelt almost floral as if he had bathed with rose petals. He gently stroked my hair; I sighed contentedly and closed my eyes again.