Self-deprecating? Confirmation bias at its finest? Entirely likely, but Ravus doesn't seem to take it that way. He doesn't laugh or smile at the grim humor, but does tilt his head ever-so-slightly as if he's mulling it over.

"I do not ask for unknowable promises," he says after a moment, that intense mismatched gaze falling on Ardyn. An understanding brims in them, like he's had a quiet, private revelation of some kind. "Only effort." The same that has been asked of him recently. To try. It's only fair.

"As for schedules," Ravus trails off, a hand setting on his hip. "Well, I do not keep the rigorous hours I once did as the High Commander. I suppose unemployment has the benefit of giving me free time." The whole transplanted in another world bit remains unspoken, but it lingers there at the edge of his words. "Give me a bit of time to have something other than my coat tailored. If we're having a proper..." a date. He's going on a date with Ardyn, Astrals preserve him. His face flushes a bit darker, and Ravus clears his throat.

"If we're going on a proper date, I should like not to be dressed for combat... and you in something, anything, other than that."