Serpico's made a big show of acting calm, but it's actually taking him all his effort to maintain control of himself. And even that, only out of habit. A lifetime spent in service of others' desires has meant the only thing he's ever had to call his own is his mind, and he's maintained a stubborn, iron grip on it all this time. It's vexing to think that some ridiculous curse is what will finally force him to relinquish control of himself, and the low simmer of anger at the back of his mind only makes the heat in his gut burn hotter.

Strained so tight against the curse's effects, he's tense as a bowstring when Lon'qu reaches for him -- and flinches when the hand halts halfway there.

His kneejerk response is a low huff of frustration. And then he hates himself for being frustrated, for wanting that hand to make contact and relieve him of the curse's burn. The longer this goes, the worse the circumstances are. Serpico closes his eyes and exhales slowly, brow knitted.

Then he steps forward, throwing his arms over Lon'qu's neck to pull him close for a kiss.

If Lon'qu was expecting any sort of sultry grace, he'll be disappointed. What Serpico makes is a pragmatic gesture, and a surprisingly rough one; even as he deepens the kiss, trying to drown out his doubts with the heat exuding from that curse, he drags Lon'qu back two, three steps until he can lean back against a tree. Purely for practical reasons. His legs already feel wobbly, and he's in no mood to topple over backwards.

He pulls back for air after a moment, and gives Lon'qu a look that the other's never seen from him before -- sharp, vicious, and cold. It's at odds with his unfailingly polite tone of voice.

"'Let us be done with this,' yes?"