His footsteps pause. His eyes stay on the jungle, a long second, before he decides not to ignore the summons. He had planned to step out into the water and let it soak him, let it wet him to the skin.

"People know what good rain sounds like. It's deeper than memory."

He stands, waiting for a cue, waiting for something to weigh his decision further on one side or another. Should he sit with the Emperor, discuss? Or at his feet, where those long, cool fingers can skim through his hair, and he can listen to the voice without distractions of sight and face? Benefits and drawbacks to both, so Zane waits for the Emperor to offer a positive or a negative, one way or another, to make his choice for him.