His gaze flicked towards the woman and away, seemingly torn between focusing on the Fairy eagerly toweling off his lap and his daughter's new perch on the king's lap. Richard was clearly frustrated but surprisingly enough hadn't ripped his sword from its scabbard just yet. Some of the Fairies--by their giggling, quiet jokes and glances--seemed to be of the opinion that this was because Richard's groin was being toweled off with a great deal of attention by a very voluptuous lady. But although he did react, only a small bulge grew half-hard in his pants. His eyes flicked towards her increasingly exposed chest, then away: "I don't need your help. They'll dry themselves."

Over on his throne, the king smiled (perhaps benevolently?) as the little girl, clearly miffed, turned her head away. "Seduced," he said again. What was it about his voice? Something like silken honey. Something like a running brook, pleasant and relaxing. "That means making them excited, and then making them feel good. Because of who you are, it should come naturally to you." His soft hands slid along her shoulders, fitting neatly underneath her coat. They stroked her gently but began to squeeze ever so slightly.

Richard peered past the woman, or tried to: she was doing her level best to block him, both from moving towards the king and from seeing exactly what he was doing. It wouldn't have been so difficult if her gently swaying breasts hadn't been fighting for his attention--or if his little daughter hadn't been so steadfastly avoiding his attention. He tried to maneuver around her once, twice, acting unusually passive, but finally stopped still and growled at her. "Move. You're in my way."