He closes his eyes and feels the waves of anger as a perversion of a caress.

'I can not.'

Because once it is given, it is no longer his to command. And a part of him wants to believe that it could not be given without some small invitation on the other's part.

He didn't imagine that, the brief and fleeting moment of comfort Javert took in the dream. He didn't imagine the silent pleas for something to take away the pain he was in.

He steps back, and drops into a low, courtly bow, and holds it, his eyes cast down, his back straight.

'I am at your mercy, sir.'