[ There's certainly logic behind Alhaitham's words. The scribe's offer was made in the first place, after all, to help Kaveh get to the Akademiya sooner rather than later. And so it makes sense, how the other man stands from the bed and reaches for his shirt despite the arousal straining against his pants and making the architect's mouth practically water, how he plans as stated to simply meditate and walk it off, how his doing so not only allows him to get back in a timely fashion, but Kaveh as well, so that his darshan and this client don't have to wait for too much longer.

What makes no logical sense at all is the way Kaveh feels oddly used, the way he feels sick and empty when just minutes ago every part of him was comfortable and content. The way every single part of him is aching to reach out and stop the other man, pull him back to the bed and kiss and touch and feel until he's not thinking anymore; a need strong enough that his fingers are twitching, body tense with a desire to reach.

The only thing that stops him is the fact that Alhaitham has already turned him down. Kaveh isn't that kind of man.

...Nor does he want to get rejected again. ]

Then enjoy your walk. [ It's hard to keep his head high after what's just happened, but the architect somehow manages it, a certain haughtiness to his demeanor as he stands from the bed too, sets about tossing a few of the covers around to hide the worst of the evidence of his dreams and the torn threads of the coverlet. ] You can tell the darshan I'll be there shortly. I just need to clean up first.

[ The look he offers is once again challenging, as if daring the scribe to disagree with him, to try and hurry him up yet further. ]

We'll say an hour.

[ And then he turns and walks from the room without waiting for a reply. ]