Maybe not even a dragon can save Ardyn from his own destruction, but that doesn't stop Ravus from trying, or naively believing this really can work. They won't know until that breakpoint. And Ravus has always been too stubborn to give up when he should. Besides, right now? He's utterly charmed.

Case in point: Ravus doesn't hear desperation. What he hears is something he still isn't fully accustomed too. That people want to be near him. After the dehumanizing way he'd grown accustomed to being looked at in Niflheim, the shock of that desire still rattles him. It's a good kind of shock, but shock all the same.

"Are you now?" Ravus mumbles, unsure what to even do or say to reciprocate that. What is it that people do with one another? He's only spent the empty hours training or anxiously working out contingency after contingency in those moments. For what few he was afforded, anyway. His voice colors with that helpless confusion, too. And a touch of hope for a lead. "I admit, I still have yet to figure out what to do with the hours. Perhaps you'll have better ways to fill them than I. After all," he trails off, then shrugs. If his usual dour expression lightens some, it can't be helped. Perhaps he's in a much better mood than he started this ridiculous party with. "You seem like just the type of man Highwind once warned me of: the ones that can always find something troublesome to get up to."