Lets call it educational

The Warlord was essentially just an observer at this point. Walking on the other side of Art, and simply being there to catch the boy if he did happen to stumble. When Absinthe spoke of ‘servicing’ Art, a sharper breath entered his lungs. He fought very hard, and won, the battle to contain laughter. However, distracted as he was, it made him ill prepared for Art’s response. His slightly confused agreement brought a more startled breath into the Warlord. It caught in his throat the wrong way and he coughed once, twice, and cleared his throat. “The, er, the boy is a bit young for that right now Absinthe” he scolded their guide.

“Have you come up with a selection to match his expectations?” he prompted, wishing to move the conversation along. This was not the time or place to teach Artorias the meaning of the word ‘brothel’

"Sirius Fatalis"