[Even where he is, as comfortable as he is, the voice from above makes him tense. Daan, craving death?]

[The voice that replies is as stern as anything.]

[Don't you dare. You can't. Don't even think about that sort of thing like that.]

[He has half a mind to reach up to throttle the man, even if those words from before weren't technically from his own throat. The urge passes, quelled by the touch to his face. There's someone lighting a fire near his ears again. How annoying.]

[Most would consider Vergilius a beast. To be treated as nothing but beloved makes his heart flip in ways that perplex him beyond measure.]

...I can agree to that. I'll try, too. I try every day. Sometimes its all we can do.

[His hand drifts up, quiet, capturing the side of Daan's face in turn. He wants this moment to last forever. He knows that regardless of which city he is in, that thought is a useless little dream.]

But if you die...what would I do with myself?