Ravus lets loose a soft, but still audible sigh of relief. He's rarely so concerned with anyone's opinion of him, but Ignis is one of those rare exceptions. Which makes him all the more anxious to know Ignis doesn't think of him as some sort of lecherous pest.

He thinks the mention of toxins must be about the poisonous breath weapon. Which, it certainly has dulled his senses, but he knows it wasn't the venom that made his arm move against his will. No small part of him wants to argue about it too. Because that still sets blame with Ignis, and Ravus doesn't wish him to carry that burden. None of this Ravus can even begin to blame Ignis for.

But he's already screwed up a few times now, and he's sure with as lightheaded as he feels, he'll only make it worse. It's easier to cut his loses here, and hopefully be able to think and speak more clearly later.

So he focuses on Ignis hand curled in his own to guide him, and nods in agreement. He gently squeezes, relieved to be led, and quietly murmurs a, "Yes, sir."