Georg plucks at Alfred's tie to undo it, slowly unbuttoning the boy's shirt. Sliding his suspenders off his shoulders. But taking his time with everything, as though they had centuries to do everything Alfred wants to do. Which they do, really. All the time in the world.

"Patience, my magnificent boy," he smiles, sliding his hands down to untuck Alfred's shirt. Moving with a lazy sort of grace. And he pauses to admire Alfred, now that his shirt is undone. "Look at you. Truly, a beauty."