Sagramore, meanwhile, rescues the leather collar from the floor and after a moment of turning it over in his hands buckles it around his neck. The leather is soft and pliant, and it fits well, neither too loose nor too tight, a present pressure. It feels good, and better to be reminded that he's Laertes'. He'd expected some immediate quickening of desire, and there's a little, a thrill of heat in his belly, but mostly he feels content. It's like the token he had wished for before. It's a physical proof of what they are to one another.

"Thou wilt have all the library in thy rooms within a fortnight," he says.