"Rubens always sounded like fun, from what I'd heard of him," Ganymede murmured; he'd kept relatively abreast of what was going on in the world no matter where he went, and however long written letters took to reach him, he always got them. "Oh, I don't think he forgot me. It wasn't a long affair--his heart belonged elsewhere--but it was enjoyable."

Hearts and minds were one thing to have and hold; sex was entirely different, at least for him. Ganymede had had much of the latter, and relatively little of the former given his age. But he nodded when Armand had to confirm which painter he meant...the polymath had been a close friend for quite a while. "A few. Not many, because I asked him not to. But some have my face in them. He was one of the few who listened when I told him I was no angel, real or otherwise."