Warmth. Was comfort to Martyn. Lucky he was business partners with a man with the warmest heart and hands.
His smile, his gestures. So warm. Hell even when they bump into each other accidentally, Martyn would feel warmth spread across his face. He liked the feeling. The feeling of sunshine rays.
Even after his first death by that explosion he was warm. Or... that's what Martyn told himself so that he would not feel that Ren's hands were slightly colder, feeling like chill air on a normal day.
He could not convince himself that when Ren ordered him to behead him though. His tone was cold but still had that gentleness behind it.
Ren had placed the axe in Martyn's hands, their fingers making contact for a split second when Ren pulled away. It was little and short but Martyn missed it as soon as it started and went.
The Red King rose, Martyn feared. There was no more warmth behind his grin. When the King clasped a hand on Martyn's shoulder, he shivered, it felt like icicles. The chill air when the king struck dead and rose up did not help.
Martyn hoped, at least, after that incident, there would be at a tingle of warmth he felt for his king.
And he did feel that tingle of warmth.
It would stay until the both of them lost their last life.