Oh my, really?

Vimes looked straight at Vetinari. The man had been playing with him for too long.

"Fuck me," he commanded, simply. Vetinari did not seem at all perturbed by Vimes' strange request.

"My goodness me, really?" the man asked, one eyebrow raised. It was completely unfair that here was Vimes, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, with the demoted Vetinari before him as nothing more than a common upstart, and the man was so damn calm about it. Like he still knew everything that was going on, even though he, Vimes, was now the man with informants everywhere in Ankh-Morpork. It was infuriating.

Vimes bristled. "Fuck me, or I'll kill you."

Vetinari managed, while not moving a muscle, to give the direct impression that he was casually picking dirt from beneath his long nails, if such a mindful person would ever allow such lowlife scum as dirt to approach his well-manicured hands. "I believe, your Lordship, that the term is 'have you assassinated.' You are the Patrician, after all."

And that was another thing. Vetinari, despite having been the Patrician for what was likely half of his life, never once flinched at the mention of Vimes ruling the country instead of him. Never once slipped and called him "Commander," or "Vimes," or even anything other than "Your Lordship" or "sir." As if it had always been this way.

"No," Vimes answered coldly, "I will kill you. With my own two gods-given hands."

Vetinari gave the tiniest of sighs. "Well, if you will insist on being violent about it, I suppose I shall have to conceed."

Vimes was determined not to be nonplussed. Or, moreso than he all ready was. He never quite knew what to expect with Vetinari, he only knew that whatever it was was likely to piss him off. He hadn't thought the man would agree, of all things. He'd actually rather hoped that Vetinari would declare him mad, and do whatever was needed to be done to get himself back into the Oblong Office. But Vimes would take what he could get. For now.

"Undress," Vimes commanded. Vetinari stood still for a moment, prompting Vimes to add, "That is an order."

Vetinari, seemingly sensing that the words "don't make me repeat myself" were ready to jump off of Vimes' lips, began to do so. First the shirt, the carefully ironed unremarkable grey shirt that was symbolic of most of what Vetinari wore, fell to the floor. The skin beneath it was so pale that Vimes wondered if it had ever even seen candlelight. Vimes mused that he could see every blue and violet vein tracing its way across the scrawny torso of the Patrician. Er, the ex-Patrician, Vimes corrected himself with a disbelieving mental shake of his head. Then the pants, a different shade of nondescript grey, slid down Vetinari's legs to the floor. He stepped out of them with no outward hint of shame, self-consciousness, or even chill, despite the low temperature of the room.

That left nothing but the undergarments. Despite all expectations, they were white. Perhaps a rather nondescript white, but they were definitely lacking in greyness. Vimes was vaguely surprised.

Looking the man over, it was an absolute wonder he had remained Patrician for so long. Vimes was certain that he could break the man in half with not too much effort, even despite the fact that Vimes was not in his best shape. He would have been terriffically easy to dispose of, physically...yet somehow, no one had ever done it. Though, Vimes added mentally, he was rather surprised that he, himself, had managed to remain the Patrician - especially a living one - for so long, and he'd only been doing it for a week.

Vetinari seemed about to speak. Perhaps he was going to protest, Vimes thought. Perhaps he would insist, at the very least, that Vimes remove some of his own clothing before he was completely exposed. Perhaps he was going to explain that the room was rather cold, and that was the reason for...nevermind. But no such sound came. He seemed to think better of himself, and removed the final remaining garment, dropping it carefully atop his piled clothes. He nodded respectfully.

"Sir."

Right. That meant it was now Vimes' turn. Of course, technically, it was possible for them to do it without Vimes fully removing any of his clothing, but it seemed somehow wrong. Especially because Vimes was still convinced that Vetinari would be re-instated as Patrician soon enough, and Vimes couldn't afford to anger him too much.