Lion Head Mesa Sips froth from soft, warm joe

Arsenio shook his head, as if in disagreement with the Fellahin’s assessment of himself. The Mazoi had never anticipated that he would have any of them tend to him in that way. He was not to be pampered, no matter what he did to serve the Pharaoh and his prized queen. Did Sayf not feel that he was demeaned in these tasks? Arsenio surely would have. He did not want to ask the slender thing if it was so. It would only grow the anger in his belly.

Yes, yes, it is fine, he assured the slim man.

The water sloshed up to his chest and he looked down at it.

Friends do not serve each other that way. They support.

Arsenio felt it was a fine line, easy to cross, but one that stood distinctly in his mind. He did not want Sayf to think the only way he was useful was by serving the Mazoi. The Greek man only wanted company and he feared that his time spent with Tamar would cause eyes to wander.