( he's quiet, for a moment--and that's certainly significant, that he doesn't seek to immediately close or clutter the space between them with words like they're necessary. instead, oddly, he's trying so hard to make those words sink in, to really cement them down through his thoughts, into his chest, that his gaze falls to look at the table, and then, further, down to his hands. he takes in a slow breath, then lets it out--and laughs, but it's soft, quiet and understanding. )

Is it weird...that I want it to be special to you? Or, well, not like that, not it, but...

( there's a faint scrunch of his nose, like he's trying to parse it out. )

That I want to be special to you, I mean.

( the part about noctis--he'll swallow that down, and try to. he knows there's a lot he needs to talk about, with him, but right now, with the state of everything, a little space seems right, too. a little time. he loves him, and misses him, but it's more complex than just being someone boring and normal; it's deeper than that, he thinks.

tentative, he glances up at her, watching her with a tilt of his head like he's gauging her reactions. )

I don't have any ulterior motives. You know that, right?

( i just like you. )