A disgruntled sound escapes him when his face is squished, but he doesn't bother pulling away either. A bit like a mostly patient dog being used as a playmat by a kitten. Only the kitten is Noctis, and suddenly he's looking at Ravus in such a way that has his heart doing flips under his ribs. Now more than ever, he wants to avert his gaze, but something else troubles him.
Ravus squints, not quite at Noctis, but like he can visualize his own emotions and leer at them. Is he jealous? That seems odd, given he's only even figured out he likes kisses a few hours ago. Is it even possible to feel jealous that quickly? Maybe, but it's never particularly been in Ravus' nature. No, he thinks this might be something else, something deeper.
What it is, he couldn't quite say. But it feels like an old ache, a kind of longing without the hot spike of envy driven into his heart. Ah, but that doesn't address the question, or the sulky prince in his lap.
"It's not whining," Ravus insists, a touch petulant. "It's commiserating." Then, quieter, Ravus murmurs, "and it wasn't meant to be hurtful."
It takes far too long for the cogs in his mind to make their full rotations, all gummed up by toxic fumes and confusing emotions. But when they do finally grind past each other, Ravus suddenly snaps his head up to gawk at Noctis with a stupid realization.
"Wait- Pardon, but... Does that mean you wished for something like that, from me?" That doesn't seem right, but why else would Noctis be grumbling like that? If it hardly made a difference in his wants, he wouldn't be making such sulky rebukes, surely.
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Ravus squints, not quite at Noctis, but like he can visualize his own emotions and leer at them. Is he jealous? That seems odd, given he's only even figured out he likes kisses a few hours ago. Is it even possible to feel jealous that quickly? Maybe, but it's never particularly been in Ravus' nature. No, he thinks this might be something else, something deeper.
What it is, he couldn't quite say. But it feels like an old ache, a kind of longing without the hot spike of envy driven into his heart. Ah, but that doesn't address the question, or the sulky prince in his lap.
"It's not whining," Ravus insists, a touch petulant. "It's commiserating." Then, quieter, Ravus murmurs, "and it wasn't meant to be hurtful."
It takes far too long for the cogs in his mind to make their full rotations, all gummed up by toxic fumes and confusing emotions. But when they do finally grind past each other, Ravus suddenly snaps his head up to gawk at Noctis with a stupid realization.
"Wait- Pardon, but... Does that mean you wished for something like that, from me?" That doesn't seem right, but why else would Noctis be grumbling like that? If it hardly made a difference in his wants, he wouldn't be making such sulky rebukes, surely.