René d'Herblay, alias Aramis

"And it will be cold outside that time of year," Aramis laments with a yawn, shivering for the path of the cloth against his sensitive skin, though the marks are slowly fading. Aramis finds that he will miss them, wishing he had the energy to stand and see them all in a mirror before they are gone.

"Porthos," he says, quirking a grin. "Take a picture?"