After a bit of trial and error, mostly involving jabbing fingers at the tablet (and then simply asking for assistance from the host himself), Bagoas finally finds a piece of music that speaks to him and his long standing love affair with drums and rhythm and musicality.

He leaves his bright red kaftan folded neatly on one of the poolside wooden lounge chairs; wearing matching trousers that reach to his ankles underneath, and a long-sleeved, form-fitting top that come to a stop at the lower edge of his breastbone, hugging his ribs and leaving his mid section completely bare despite the chill.

He gives Josef a mischievously demure smile, telling him he would do a poor job of dancing for entertainment if he was covered from head to toe.

Now he moves over the dance floor, hands and feet painted and bare, for once dancing solely for his own amusement.