[ Ignis snorts, because he has been listening to Prompto and Noct complain about the thread count on their sleeping bags or whatever for so long it's just pleasant white noise at this point. Not that he doesn't also enjoy their rare appearances in actual buildings, he too likes a bed and plumbing, for instance, but it is part of the ritual of what they're made of to sigh and tut; Noct would think he'd taken a blow to the head otherwise. ]
Somewhere modest, I should think. The mere idea of privacy shames us more with decadence than silk sheets and marble floors could ever hope to manage.
[ Ever so deadpan, ever so dry, both affects seriously undercut by his eyelids slipping half closed to turn one sharp cheekbone into Noct's hand. After a second of what is clearly pure indulgence - which is probably as rare for Ignis as mischief - he rightens himself, one corner of his mouth tipping up into a lopsided half-smile. A caravan, or even a separate tent, would do just as well; anything to be alone without the deafening of seconds ticking by, rhythm merciless in his head. He lets the commentary on his abilities go by without comment, but his smile stretches over the rest of his mouth; if Noct feels like the brightest thing on Ignis' entire horizon, then he's made his point as it was meant, bare minimum eloquence at his disposal or not.
Speaking of bare minimum eloquence. ]
Now I've made the prospect of skiving off with me sound as romantic as malnutrition, goodness.
[ Ah-ha, so two can play at this "teasing" game. With "carpe noctem" in the mix already, may as well go on as he began, which is to say with mild absurdity. The idea of putting aside their respective duties for just as long as it takes to catch their breath decided, or at least put out into the atmosphere, Ignis captures Noct's hand back from his cheek to kiss the backs of his knuckles. He's been storing up these little gestures for years: Noct's hands rough on a practice sword making him want to trace each line and whorl, the exposed nape of his neck--Ignis thought of closing his mouth over the top vertebrae, precise and gentle. They've been side by side long enough for glimpses of every plane of skin, meaning: there's not one Ignis hasn't thought about. Sketching Noct's outlines with his hands and mouth, filling in all the edges he's imagined.
So. Talking may not be the only use this proposed privacy sees. For now, Ignis judges they have a few more minutes to spare; he eyes Noct, considering and sly. ]
Hmm. What are the odds you'll hear our fellows return before they're upon us?
[ It probably helps that while Gladio could glide smoothly and unnoticed through the trees, Prompto might as well bring a herd of elephants behind him. ]
IT'S STILL ME ...wouldn't it be so weird if another ignis just charged in here
Somewhere modest, I should think. The mere idea of privacy shames us more with decadence than silk sheets and marble floors could ever hope to manage.
[ Ever so deadpan, ever so dry, both affects seriously undercut by his eyelids slipping half closed to turn one sharp cheekbone into Noct's hand. After a second of what is clearly pure indulgence - which is probably as rare for Ignis as mischief - he rightens himself, one corner of his mouth tipping up into a lopsided half-smile. A caravan, or even a separate tent, would do just as well; anything to be alone without the deafening of seconds ticking by, rhythm merciless in his head. He lets the commentary on his abilities go by without comment, but his smile stretches over the rest of his mouth; if Noct feels like the brightest thing on Ignis' entire horizon, then he's made his point as it was meant, bare minimum eloquence at his disposal or not.
Speaking of bare minimum eloquence. ]
Now I've made the prospect of skiving off with me sound as romantic as malnutrition, goodness.
[ Ah-ha, so two can play at this "teasing" game. With "carpe noctem" in the mix already, may as well go on as he began, which is to say with mild absurdity. The idea of putting aside their respective duties for just as long as it takes to catch their breath decided, or at least put out into the atmosphere, Ignis captures Noct's hand back from his cheek to kiss the backs of his knuckles. He's been storing up these little gestures for years: Noct's hands rough on a practice sword making him want to trace each line and whorl, the exposed nape of his neck--Ignis thought of closing his mouth over the top vertebrae, precise and gentle. They've been side by side long enough for glimpses of every plane of skin, meaning: there's not one Ignis hasn't thought about. Sketching Noct's outlines with his hands and mouth, filling in all the edges he's imagined.
So. Talking may not be the only use this proposed privacy sees. For now, Ignis judges they have a few more minutes to spare; he eyes Noct, considering and sly. ]
Hmm. What are the odds you'll hear our fellows return before they're upon us?
[ It probably helps that while Gladio could glide smoothly and unnoticed through the trees, Prompto might as well bring a herd of elephants behind him. ]