Mustang's intimidated, and out of his depts, and turned on. For Vrenille, that's a powerfully aphrodisiac combination. It gives him a lot to play with--like a harpist with a lot of potential strings to pluck, at liberty to play any number of songs. He feels the energy around their bodies shift, the air stirring with Mustang's breath, and he doesn't need to look or even to touch to know that the man's aroused.

"If you need things to stop, genuinely, I want you to say 'red.' Not 'no,' not 'please,' not 'don't' or 'stop.' Say any of those as much as you like, whatever's happening will continue. But if you say 'red,' it'll stop." He looks into his companion's face as he explains this, holding him with his eyes, intense and intent. "All right?"

And then he reaches for the jockstrap that began this whole discussion, passing it to him, "Go into the changing rooms, over there." He nods across the room to a doorway with an attendant who seems to have already noticed them--he's looking in their direction, momentarily making eye contact with Vrenille as though exchanging some silent understanding. "Take this paper thing off 'n put these on, then wait for me in there."

It's a fairly elementary instruction, an easy enough test to pass, but still a little test nonetheless.