"It doesn't look the same at all," he argued, despite as he'd pointed out only a moment ago having never seen her undressed without the presence of the tattoos. "It's like the difference between a window and stained glass."

(He liked them, he supposed was what he was trying to say).

Alfred said nothing for a moment, letting his eyes and his fingertips wander over the vine path. He stopped his hand before it moved over the top of her corset, but his gaze and his imagination continued to wander for a second longer. "I'd like to see the rest of them," he said quietly. "If that's alright."