No, he doesn’t sound much upset at all. And Ravus’ tone is low and saccharine in response, knowing full well that it’s gone over better than expected, despite Ignis’ gentle chastising. He can’t help but feel a great measure of relief.

“A thousand pardons, dear Ignis,” he says, breathing out an amused sound, “as I am not so well-versed in the art. Clearly, I need an expert teacher to show me quite how it’s done. Though this also means you’ll have to permit me a second chance after I’ve had my lessons.”

The teasing aside, Ravus doesn’t regret it. Besides that, he’s had a feeling Ignis has known far longer than Ravus himself has. He’ll say as much after he tilts his head enough to feel the soft brush of Ignis’ hair against his cheek. It’d be a hard won fight not to fall asleep just like that, melted against him in the light of the fire, his heart near-full to bursting.

“You knew already though, I’m sure. Everyone else certainly saw through me as if I were no more opaque than glass. So while I apologize for plaguing your sleep further, try not to dwell on old news. I… I simply couldn’t keep holding onto it, not after you vanished like that.”