The Pleasure House is closed.
Zora stands firmly at the grand double doors, arms crossed, trying not to cry as a weeping elven noble grabs the hem of his coat.
"Please," the noble begs, hands clasped like she's praying at an altar. "Just five minutes. I only want to touch his hips. That's all I need to get through the week!"
Zora sniffs. "I get it, believe me, I get it, but the Prince is..." he swallows hard, "recalibrating at the moment. I'm afraid he's not available today."
A wail erupts behind him as another woman drops to her knees, clutching her chest. "I need him! My soul is shriveling!"
"Oh, you poor thing..." Zora cries, sinking to his knees beside her. "We must stay strong. For the Prince!"
Inside, the reason for all the emotional chaos is hips-deep in pelvic recalibrations.
