If nothing else, it seems as though some measure of understanding is making its way into Ravus's ridiculous and inebriated brain. That's all Ignis can ask of him right now: to understand that breathing in an unknown substance is very bad and could be disastrous. Unfortunately, he highly suspects that Ravus will not tell him if anything changes. He'll have to keep an eye out on that himself.

Even if he... makes it a touch difficult, the way his immense strength can be felt in every little finger as it tightens - a vice - around Ignis's wrist. He narrows his eyes a touch before leaning in close, pushing forward against that grip.

"Then you should have spoken with me. I would have given you purpose, something to soothe over the hole! I would have gladly helped you work around your weakening arm so that you could have protected all that you want to protect!" And he thinks, really, that Ravus is just speaking you in general. Perhaps Ignis, but likely any of them who are still here for him to care about.

Blasted idiot cares about Ardyn for some reason that Ignis half suspects is a concussion to the head, he's not taking this seriously.

"Why would you not have let all of us help, rather than go to someone so unknown?"