[His hand stills, and Owen looks down at Shylock. He's not paying any attention to the fire, instead searching his face for... something.

He grins.]

Is that what you want most at this moment? Someone to treat you kindly, kiss you gently, whisper sweet nothings to you as your heart burns?

[He curls forward, shuffling as he yanks at Shylock's hair, pulling him upright until their faces are almost touching.]

You know I'm not that sweet, though.