Ravus mirrors the brief surprise, and tilts his head to the side. Pale, silvery hair follows the motion, making him look a bit like a shaggy dog trying to decipher whatever unknowable sounds his person is making.
“I wouldn't call this anger, no,” he says, and glances back towards the bar. “Irritation, perhaps. But nothing so drastic, and certainly not with you.”
His gaze falls back to Ardyn, and the hand at his jaw glides down to the gouge at his neck. It's not deep, but it doesn't look terribly pleasant either. Who knows if that brute had ever washed his hands in his lifetime, and the infection risk pings the part of his mind that's shared with an old doctor of a dragon. They should tend to it, among the other various scuffs. After Ravus addresses the confusion.
“But that surprises you?” He knows what he saw, even if it was brief. “To have my honor defended, and to be... Err-” Ravus stumbles a bit here, feeling the heat rise on his face. Those pale, sharp cheekbones do a horrible job of disguising the dusky color that starts to appear. “To be referred to quite so graciously is rather new to me. It's... Nice.”
It's a lot of things that bring up a lot of feelings that Ravus is sorely under-qualified to properly name or parse. So he doesn't, at least not while they're both in the middle of the street.
Ravus straightens himself up, offering Ardyn his real hand to help him up too. With his odd eyes cast to the cobblestones, Ravus waits if he'll take the offer, but does say, a touch quieter, “a gryphon, am I?”
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“I wouldn't call this anger, no,” he says, and glances back towards the bar. “Irritation, perhaps. But nothing so drastic, and certainly not with you.”
His gaze falls back to Ardyn, and the hand at his jaw glides down to the gouge at his neck. It's not deep, but it doesn't look terribly pleasant either. Who knows if that brute had ever washed his hands in his lifetime, and the infection risk pings the part of his mind that's shared with an old doctor of a dragon. They should tend to it, among the other various scuffs. After Ravus addresses the confusion.
“But that surprises you?” He knows what he saw, even if it was brief. “To have my honor defended, and to be... Err-” Ravus stumbles a bit here, feeling the heat rise on his face. Those pale, sharp cheekbones do a horrible job of disguising the dusky color that starts to appear. “To be referred to quite so graciously is rather new to me. It's... Nice.”
It's a lot of things that bring up a lot of feelings that Ravus is sorely under-qualified to properly name or parse. So he doesn't, at least not while they're both in the middle of the street.
Ravus straightens himself up, offering Ardyn his real hand to help him up too. With his odd eyes cast to the cobblestones, Ravus waits if he'll take the offer, but does say, a touch quieter, “a gryphon, am I?”