Ravus looks confused at the incredulity Prompto touts, as if this should be obvious. He supposes he is 'for real' right now, as the blond puts it. He says as much, the phrase sounding almost foreign on his tongue.
"I am 'for real.' I do not imagine myself or my words imaginary. I do not require coddling." But he hardly gets the chance to explain any further. Prompto has him by the hand, and Ravus doesn't have it in him to dig in his heels. So he follows, and listens, and tries not to let the flutter in his heart mean too much as Prompto insists that he's important enough to worry over. It truly doesn't seem like something worth so much effort, to Ravus, but he's learning rapidly that this doesn't seem to be the universal thought. These small wounds and growing pains, they're such background noise to him, always determined to ignore hindrances. And yet, to these kind sorts, they seem like terrible roadblocks.
"I suppose your point is one I cannot argue. The pains are tolerable enough, but I do not like being unclean." The idea of having to eventually put his coat back on with dried blood encrusted on his back makes him curl his lip with disgust. It fades as his thoughts pull back to Prompto, and his expectant look. He's left blinking slow and helplessly down at the smaller man. Bullied by kindness, yet again.
"I concede," he says, and squeezes Prompto's hand where he's subconsciously refused to let go. Despite what he has to ask next, tinged with reluctance. "Would you prefer to bathe further down river from myself? You did not wish to be seen bare, earlier."
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"I am 'for real.' I do not imagine myself or my words imaginary. I do not require coddling." But he hardly gets the chance to explain any further. Prompto has him by the hand, and Ravus doesn't have it in him to dig in his heels. So he follows, and listens, and tries not to let the flutter in his heart mean too much as Prompto insists that he's important enough to worry over. It truly doesn't seem like something worth so much effort, to Ravus, but he's learning rapidly that this doesn't seem to be the universal thought. These small wounds and growing pains, they're such background noise to him, always determined to ignore hindrances. And yet, to these kind sorts, they seem like terrible roadblocks.
"I suppose your point is one I cannot argue. The pains are tolerable enough, but I do not like being unclean." The idea of having to eventually put his coat back on with dried blood encrusted on his back makes him curl his lip with disgust. It fades as his thoughts pull back to Prompto, and his expectant look. He's left blinking slow and helplessly down at the smaller man. Bullied by kindness, yet again.
"I concede," he says, and squeezes Prompto's hand where he's subconsciously refused to let go. Despite what he has to ask next, tinged with reluctance. "Would you prefer to bathe further down river from myself? You did not wish to be seen bare, earlier."