[ Adra can feel some deliberation in the swirl of Gil's fingertips, but he doesn't have the context to grasp it as language, as anything more than just particularly careful touch. He just knows that it feels good, that the magic hasn't stopped, and that his sharp edges are--temporarily--blunted.
He's still quick enough to know an evasion when he spots one, though. He has more questions to ask, about Gil's status as a god, about the nature of Servants, about everything ... he will always have more questions; always seek deeper understanding. But, at the same time, it's still not his way to pry people open like vaults. They have to open the doors on their own time, and by their own desire.
As does he.
He leans forward suddenly, moving so that they're nearly level with each other, so that his forehead is almost touching Gil's. ]
Oh? Do you use that line on everyone, or am I special?
[ Another laugh, and he pulls away (though he keeps his hand right where it is). ]
no subject
He's still quick enough to know an evasion when he spots one, though. He has more questions to ask, about Gil's status as a god, about the nature of Servants, about everything ... he will always have more questions; always seek deeper understanding. But, at the same time, it's still not his way to pry people open like vaults. They have to open the doors on their own time, and by their own desire.
As does he.
He leans forward suddenly, moving so that they're nearly level with each other, so that his forehead is almost touching Gil's. ]
Oh? Do you use that line on everyone, or am I special?
[ Another laugh, and he pulls away (though he keeps his hand right where it is). ]