For his part, Emet-Selch holds still; whatever designs Iramaat was determined to make, weren't going to be improved by his twitching back or otherwise making this more painful than it needed to be. That would be an easy way of getting paint in an eye (and he was already half-blind; with as close as they are, it's probably not hard to tell that one of them isn't focusing on anything, the gold shade discolored), and would make this entire experience just that bit more awkward.

"That is the goal, is it not," he sighs, finally closing his eyes entirely, trying to mentally picture what she was doing based on the coolness of the paint applied. "But what motivated you to accost a stranger? Were you likewise abandoned by your own Bonded, or did you arrive here unattached?"