Indeed, Mithrun's hands go with Angeal's, just as his wide eyes stay locked on Angeal's face. It's sometimes almost shocking, how casual Angeal is about his ears; such conduct would be nothing short of appalling on the Central Continents, and that's without even taking into account said ears' grotesque state.

Actually, Mithrun isn't sure he's ever told Angeal how intimate that contact actually is. Not that they haven't been plenty intimate in all kinds of other ways.

"...Really." Mithrun's eye flits away, as though glancing at the unseen dragon over his metaphorical shoulder. No useful response from Molik, of course - just what Mithrun gathers to be some grumbling about Voridin, which Mithrun immediately dismisses as useless.

And then Angeal straightens, and makes that declaration, and Mithrun's attention snaps back to him - and to that itching still under his skin, the crawling almost-pain he still hasn't done anything about. "What? Now?"