That solemn exhaustion is something Noctis knows all too well. It's been a lifelong companion, ever-present even when he was just a boy. Something that Ravus may even remember plaguing him when he was small and in his family's care. A bone-deep tiredness that had nothing to do with his injuries and everything to do with the cruel tricks his mind played on him. Maybe especially then, dealing with the first time someone had died for him in so spectacular a fashion. At least that he could clearly remember.

Noct follows Ravus' movements easily enough. It never takes much encouragement for him to lay down, even on the best of days. Snuggled close to someone he cares for when they are both hurting so deeply? The barest implication would be enough. He only pauses long enough to tug the blanket off the back of the couch, slinging it out around his shoulders so that it drapes over the both of them when he settles down atop Ravus. Without all the layers of armor and buckles and such Noctis can't help appreciating how comfortable he is to lay against. The swell of his chest beneath Noctis' cheek cozy and warm, the thrum of his heart steady beneath his ear.

"She'd be even more bullheaded about you sleeping in the woods than me." He mumbles, one hand lifting to poke Ravus in the ribs. It's the sort of place that most people would be ticklish but he doesn't expect much of a reaction. Even as a teenager Ravus had tried so hard to be stern with them, collapsing into a tickle fight would have been too childish for a fifteen year old.

Pity... He could really benefit from laughing more.