The urge to reply with snark hadn’t dwindled any with the hand around his waist, but it has similarly sated the part of the man who just wanted to be acknowledged, leaving quite the ding in his defenses against the wrangling the man posed.
“Anything to warrant this…” But what complaint was there to be made, actually? “Er.” Hands awkwardly lay on the arm, no force applied to remove them, but still definitely painting them as the reason for his loss of steam. “You have… a point.” Smooth. “How long do you plan to keep me locked up for then, hm?”
Well, that was fast ( enough to merit suspicion at that ). Maroons observe him with an idle kind of curiosity, studying his deflated demeanor for any signs of sudden rebellion that might be sparked at the belief that Diluc might let his guard down ( he wasn’t, he has been burnt too many times before over his own mercy ).
A hum. ❝ I have a point ? ❞ he echoes, amused, depositing him on the sofa after a moment of deliberation, though he doesn’t allow him much room of freedom before he’s pressing him against the plushness of the furniture. ❝ Generous, I would have thought such an admission would have required hours of unimaginable ‘ torture ‘ to get it out of you. ❞ A tilt of his head, gaze faux bored. ❝ Or is this a trick ? ❞
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