"It's fine if it does come off corny occasionally, I mean. Differen' folks respond t'differen' things," he replied, deciding to let Lark live with his situation. But Rook was flattered, he supposed. Nice to know he could affect him like that, even off the cuff and silly about it.
He'd take the punch though, snickering. "I see, yeah. Predator and prey, that sorta thing. You wanna hunt him down an' corner him, make him yours, that sorta thing?"
But then he was thinking about rats and chefs and he was cackling, doubled over in tears, a few things around them floating up and around from his mirth. "Fuckin'-- fuck, if... if it was a rat dommin' me... it'd be fuckin' Ratatouille play..."
Finally managed to get more air in and stood up, blinking a few tears from his eyes, pupil a little more goat-like rectangular than usual and a few finger tip twitches to set items back where they should be.
"I am flattered y'think m'fancy, Lark. I think I've prolly given you some kinda... slightly skewed impression of me, though." Rook didn't feel very fancy, as a person. Not really. Sure, the Rookery was fancy, and he cared about the quality and the experience provided there, and being a good host and chef, but when it came to himself, he supposed he saw himself as rather more base and rough and crude in comparison.
"Somethin' like that," Lark agreed, evenly, before slowly scrunching up with confusion at Rook's laughter. Then he got the punch line, and slapped a hand over his own mouth, totally failing to stifle the giggles. The more he imagined it, the more funny it got. Only thing that really settled him down was the items starting to float. Which!
Hm!
That's getting noted in the back of his mind for later. Rook's telekinesis is at least slightly influenced by emotion. Lark has that sort of situation too, a little. Tiny bit. Neat.
Lark gave Rook some pats on the back as he recovered. "I dunno, mate. Y'got pretty hair, I like how y'dress, you uh- I dunno. There's a personality part too, I jus' ain't gonna explain it so you can't disprove it." So there! Foolproof plan!
And back to the subject of their laughter, though! "Y'know, you're prolly th'one who'd actually be good at playin' ratatouille. Y'ever done a sorta puppetry thing? Control yer partner's hands, like Ratatouille?" He didn't feel the need to clarify consensually. It's consensual play, much like the predator prey thing.
It was more like stimming, but certainly his emotions were involved as well. Rook's equivalent of happy hand flapping, almost.
He was pleased that Lark was laughing along with him. And Rook knew also what he was going to do for Halloween that year-- no clue how he'd not thought of it before.
A light teal flush did settle across his cheeks at the compliments. "Cheers, mate. I like those things about you too," he replied, snorting at Lark's... artful sidestep of Rook's ability to provide a counter-argument.
But it was fine. He wouldn't disabuse Lark of having a good opinion of him.
The question did have him holding up a hand and wiggling it. "Eh, not really. Sometimes I'll, uh, float 'em around or whatever, but... hasn' really been somethin' I've explored. Kinda hard to get a finer grip on people like that f'whole body control, but... hands I could prolly manage. Mostly I kinda. Telekinetically touch 'em. Or control toys or whatever." His psychic tendrils would brush like invisible fingers along Lark's cheeks to demonstrate. "I do usually prefer bein' the one havin' my hair pulled, but well... if someone was interested in experimentin', could be fun t'try."
