Bullying Ravus

[threevirtues]

"Considering the things we bring with us in the name of research?" An amused little hum, so quiet under his breath and yet loud in the emptiness of the halls. "Although really, I managed to store a great deal of it in the Armiger, so there's hardly as much as you'd think. A good bit of it is already set down in the room."

Fortunate, really, that he still has such a strong connection with Noct. Something that binds them together. No matter what... It makes him feel a little more hopeful for the future.

Or maybe that's just desperate delusion talking.

Not that they have much time to linger on that. Just like that, they're at the door to Ignis and Talcott's room. Because he was raised with some amount of politeness in him (which he does occasionally toss to the side as he decides), Ignis raps his knuckles on the door real quick. "Talcott, I've returned. And I've brought a guest with me." Which is putting it lightly when he opens the door to reveal the King of Tenebrae with him.

Lady Maria was, in fact, very polite and helpful. Impressed, even, by the initiative of the polite young man that was accompanying Advisor Scientia. Which, really, is to be expected. Between Ignis and his grandpa, Tal is an expert at being polite and kind. Which would be why she was willing to show him around a little and when Ignis enters the sitting area of the guest suite with Ravus he will find an unsurprising sight.

There's at least 5 stacks of books scattered across the coffee table and desk, another half dozen are open already with brightly colored tabs tucked in some of the pages. Talcott is pacing circles around the couch and coffee table, stopping every other lap to make a note in his journal that's also spread open on the table. The book in his hands is actually an original first edition, unlike the others. One that he holds so very delicately, murmuring to himself under his breath while he reads and paces.

He doesn't even look up when he hears the door open, barely registering Ignis is speaking because he's too excited to share this new thread with him, immediately flipping back to one of the earlier pages in the book, marked with a clean white strip of tissue for the safety of the book he begins to read.... in perfect Old Tenebraen.

"Selon la légende, le premier oracle reçut son pouvoir des dieux. Consacré au service du peuple, l'Oracle prie pour ceux qui souffrent- healing their sickness to keep them safe from beasts and daemons." He switches to Lucian abruptly, gesturing, eyes still on the book. "That's what we know, what we'd expect right? But listen to this. Afin que les dieux les délivrent de leurs maux et les récompensent de leur fidélité."

He snaps the book closed and beams over at the door. "Not a word about healing." And thats when he finally seems to register that Ravus is there as well, blinking once, twice, then gracefully offering a very carefully correct (if a touch forced) Tenebraen bow. "Your Majesty."

Bracing himself, Ravus knows this about to be undignified and uncomfortable. He's prepared for that, thinks maybe he can steel his expression just enough to not combust with embarrassed heat. It surely won't be a surprise now, at least. Walking in on Talcott unannounced would have been entirely more disastrous.

Or, of course, another life-ruining bit of information can drop itself in his lap. Like the boy that he's seen sucking his cock like a man slaking his thirst in the desert speaking perfect Old Tenebraen.

Ravus seats his shoulders back, and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from doing anything more. Talcott is entirely composed about the whole thing, and for a brief, disbelieving moment, Ravus has the faint hope that maybe the boy doesn't even remember the encounter. He knows he could never be so lucky though.

Nodding, Ravus acknowledges the bow with a curt nod.

"It is good to see you again, Talcott." A touch too neutral, over correcting for the fact he is a terrible liar, and that Ignis has already called him on it once tonight. And if he wasn't trying so hard, he'd have waved off the title as well. He's never been a fan of it. But that might imply a bit too much friendliness, right? Ravus briefly furrows his brows. Right? Or is it suspicious now? Damn it- Maybe a change of subject then?

"For one born to Lucis, your pronunciation is near flawless. An impressive feat, and one I wasn't aware of. Ignis had not deigned to tell me such interesting details."

Now isn't there a perfect example of someone able to keep their cool in the face of something terribly embarrassing? Ignis can't help but feel a little bit of pride, watching Talcott able to recover so smoothly and do a perfect bow. Yes, this is certainly far different than Ravus's awkward habits. He could learn a lot from Ignis's favorite assistant.

"There are some details that are best demonstrated rather than told," Ignis says lightly, stepping inside to take note of the various tabs Talcott has made. This is the least surprising thing he could return to, frankly. If anything he's glad. Clearly he's already been making impressive discoveries and notes, which only proves Ignis right. There is a clue to their research here in Tenebrae. All they have to do is get all the pieces together.

They have weeks - months, most likely - to go over everything. For now, Ignis can at least tease them in something unrelated.

So even as he flicks through the notes made, he keeps talking, and watching Talcott from the corner of his eyes. "Truly, there's no praise I could give Talcott that would truly show how incredible he is - and there is no small amount of praise I could give. I'd have accepted no one else accompanying me here besides him for matters of research. His mind really is incredible." And he means it. He truly does.

But also - "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, Ravus, that Talcott's excellent research and language skills aren't something you would be familiar with." A nod to Talcott. "I was just being told on how you two met, you see."

Vague enough that it could mean anything, really, as little or much detail as the mind could conjure.

Talcott probably won't fall so obviously into that little trap... but he may still react. And if he doesn't, Ravus still may, and that can be a wholly new obstacle for him to deal with.

It'll be good for him. Just like teasing is good for Ravus.

The trouble here is that Ignis has gone and said such lovely things about him, things that have him blushing and terribly pleased with himself, a soft appreciative little smile on his lips. Which means the comment meant to get a rise out of Talcott is meet with only the slightest hint of surprise, brows raised a touch but the blush is already on his cheeks and he is truly confident that the other man has not told Ignis any such thing.

"Languages were not part of the meeting, certainly. Hardly time for in depth discussions given the state of things." The state of the world? The state of themselves when they met? The state of the walls in the damned bathroom?

His cheeks might be a little warmer than they were a moment ago. Surely nothing that needs to mean anything. Perhaps he's just embarrassed about being so blushy about getting Ignis' commendations in the first place. That's definitely it.

"I have picked up a number of them, both written and spoken. Between my research and the difficult task of maintaining communications between outposts." A slight nod toward Ravus, an explanation of sorts. "Mm- why don't you two sit and I'll start some coffee?" An offer he doesn't wait for a response on, already turning on his heel to set the book he'd had open neatly into the file box he'd brought it up in. If he turns from the conversation a little too quickly or seems a bit too engrossed in the actual coffee making process well.

Who wouldn't be a little nervous around royalty?

Ravus knows very well the feeling of being out of depth, but from the pair of them? He's going to drown.

Ignis slinks about to look at notes, and make no mistake, Ravus sees him for the snake he is here. The goading is subtle enough calling it out would just be taking the bait, but Ravus straightens up anyway. He's not going to win with wits, so he's just going to pull up to his full and broad height, and try to look as unflappable as possible. To what degree he succeeds is hard to say. His cheeks are a touch warm, and his gaze darts between the Lucian pair.

"Most impressive indeed," Ravus agrees, tracing his claws over the grain of the table wood. Then, he drops into Tenebraen himself, his accent as beautifully natural as one might expect of the crown.

"But do you speak it as well, Ignis? Or have I found a way where even your astute mind cannot wander?" His gaze flicks up over to Talcott. The boy will know, but if he's willing to give anything away, that part Ravus doesn't know.

"I have not told him any details of our... Encounter, shall we say." Nothing incriminating just yet, all innocent, perfectly vague statements. The catoblepas in the room Ravus absolutely refuses to name remains as it is.

Ravus does, in fact, sit though, crossing one leg over his knee. With his hands folded properly in his lap, he thinks, hopes, he looks every bit the imposing royalty he's meant to embody.

It's cute that Ravus even entertains the thought that Ignis may not know Tenebraen. As though, upon the knowledge that Noctis was going to get married to the Oracle herself, he wouldn't have mastered the language without twenty four hours to make things easier for Noctis and Lady Lunafreya alike.

Or perhaps earlier, when it became clear that the two of them were going to maintain correspondence with one another, and who knew how that would become relevant in the future as the war shifted and changed?

Or perhaps even earlier, the first time he heard the news that Noctis would travel to Tenebrae along with His Majesty.

Earlier still maybe, simply because Lucis and Tenebrae had a strong connection between King and Oracle,and so it would always be wise to be familiar with another country's language.

Or maybe from the very start, when he took up his lessons at age six and it was simply expected that the King's Retainer would have to be familiar with a great deal of common languages so that he could best serve his liege, no matter which, and the languages of old allies was the best.

Silly, really. There's less reasons for him to not know Tenebraen.

Ignis doesn't reveal his hand to Ravus however. If he thinks that Ignis might not know, then he may walk into that beartrap of his own volition. All Ignis says, with a glance up from the book, is a softly murmured, "If you are going to talk behind my back before my face, Ravus, do take care not to mention my name."

Now to see how Talcott handles this.

Talcott, who may notice that Ignis seems to be in a slightly better mood than he has prior to all of this even as he takes a seat down, still reading through the places that Talcott has tabbed. A part of that could indeed be from the simple pleasure of seeing well-documented and tabbed notes on something that will certainly lead them to the things they're looking for. Maybe it's just being able to tease them both.

Either way, he seems... more relaxed.

On one hand... it would be delightful to watch someone blunder into one of Ignis' traps. It always is. Talcott takes a particular wicked joy in watching Ignis destroy a man without lifting a finger. It's a talent Talcott isn't sure he'll ever learn, he's too soft and he knows it. But in the harshness of this world... it's not something he cares to discourage.

Never mind that there's something so charming about the way laying verbal minefields makes Ignis so pleased. Enough to relax and idly flip through pages though they've only just arrived in another country and are in the presence of royalty. That last has never been impressive for Ignis the way it is for Tal, though, to be fair. Something that only makes him think back to the last time he'd seen Ravus, the way clawed fingers had stroked his hair, the feel of him filling his throat.

No. He absolutely cannot think of that right now or Ignis will definitely know something is up. Talcott glances to Ignis, looking surprised for a moment before looking back to the King, pulling himself upright as though physical presence could ever intimidate Ignis Scientia. "I see what you mean, Ignis." Talcott tilts his head a little, still half turned toward the coffee machine. "Not cautious enough by half."

If his tone is ever so slightly scolding well. Ravus asked for it.

"At what point have you ever known me not to say exactly what I think of you, Scientia? Once again, you flatter yourself with all the shamelessness of a proud peacock." Question answered, Ravus leans back in his chair some. Not quite relaxed, but not seemingly bothered by the scolding from the pair. He's just gotten out of a meeting where a dozen of his court have needled him worse than a hoard of cactaur. This is too mild to do anything more than having Ravus sigh loudly.

"A trait, I see, that is rubbing off on your assistant." Ravus drops back into common, and levels Talcott a flat look. He's trying to preserve both your dignities here; work with him, sir.

All Ignis does is smile, not put off in the slightest. "Indeed, it is a refreshing quality of yours, although it does so put you into trouble," he says, still reading through everything Talcott has made a note of before he puts that book down to move onto the next one. "Although speaking of such..."

As Talcott returns with the coffee, Ignis meets his gaze. "There's been a slight changes of plans for us, Talcott. Ravus has requested that I help him with managing his court here, at least for a short while to make sure that it lasts. That means I may be putting a bit more work on you than I had planned."

This is him working with you, Ravus. You're not ready for him to be a brat. Something that is surely made clear by the self-satisfied smile that comment about picking up Ignis' habits brings up. The sort of contented cat pleasure that is not unlike another look Ravus has seen on the boy's face, the fierce satisfaction that had come when he'd finally managed not to choke but instead fully swallow around him.

But Talcott's expression shifts to something more attentive as soon as Ignis addresses him, nodding his understanding even as he hands Ignis a coffee made precisely to his standards. The next cup is passed to Ravus, a guess but one that's not too far off. It's a rich dark roast, smoother than he might expect with the low quality coffee that would often be served in military facilities (when they bothered with anything other than Ebony vending machines). But given his Tenebraen palate? 3 sugars.

Talcott himself drinks his black. (A side effect of suffering through years of what Cid and Cor consider coffee).

"I suspected as much with the king himself at your side. I am well prepared to take that on, as you know."

It does get him trouble, and it always has. Denying it is pointless, but Ravus still huffs a dismissive breath about it. He's also keeping his gaze off that damn smirk Talcott wears. The memory he associates it with isn't fit for polite company.

The most he'll look at Talcott for the moment is a brief nod of thanks for the coffee, glad to see it properly sweetened. Someone has to have a palette around here, given Ravus has seen the way Ignis imbibes Ebony like a man with a vice, and now watching Talcott drink the equivalent of unseasoned sludge. Then again, it's not the first questionable thing he's watched Talcott drink, and promptly attempts to hide the faint creep of heat to his cheeks behind a sip from his mug. Terrible, he thinks.

"My hope is that it does not slow your research down by too great a factor, or overburden either of you. Much as I wish it not, the keeping court is still my duty, while you lot have your own. I would not keep you both unnecessarily from both your work or home."

"I know, Talcott." And there's a small fond smile sent to him for that. "Still, I wouldn't take on anything while I'm here without alerting you of it, or seeking out your thoughts on the whole matter." The ideal would be for it to not interfere with their research, but, well...

The best laid plans, and such.

"Besides..." Setting the book carefully out of the way and far from coffee, Ignis leans back in his seat. "I may request your help on some matters, Talcott. Behind the scenes, as it were." He nods to Ravus. "If I am to get involved in the court, people's eyes will be on me constantly. Now and then, I may ask Talcott to look into something in my stead... although I would still prefer him to look into what we came here for."

Ignis? Ignis will be doing both, of course.

If he sleeps at all could be debatable.

There's a moment where Talcott truly does consider holding his tongue. He does. He should. Ignis started this though, teasing around a topic without actually saying anything on it and seeing how swiftly Ravus blushes, he truly cannot help himself.

"You needn't worry, Your Majesty. You'll find me rather difficult to overburden as it were." His smile is perfectly neutral and polite, utterly bland, but there's a glint in those hazel eyes and he holds Ravus' gaze over the rim of his cup. Tipping his head just so in a way that lengthens the line of his neck, one hand drifting away from the cup to rest idly against his belly.

Ah but Ignis carries on and Talcott easily shifts his gaze away, leaving Ravus to suffer as he returns his attention to his partner. "Of course, Ignis. I am certain I can remain inobtrusive enough that no one even need know I'm here."

Okay so maybe he does have to flick one more glance back over at Ravus.

Ravus inhales sharply through his nose. A small bit of counting, holding it, just to make sure he has enough time not to explode. It's a bit like defusing a mortified bomb.

Seriously though. There's no way this is happening to him. Has he not suffered enough? Is being saddled with the burdens of an entire nation after a life of military service to a violent, conquering empire too little? The death of his whole family? No. Clearly not. Because now this godsdamned twink is all but gloating about sucking down his cock like a fucking hose.

Breathe, remember to exhale. Ravus sets his cup down with a too-loud thump, barely keeping the coffee from spilling.

"No, of course not. I needn't worry at all, Talcott. You are perfectly capable, I'm sure. If Ignis speaks so highly of you, I needn't any more proof." He's stating down at the title like it could not be any more interesting. It's fascinating. The patterns are subtle and elegant. And they're definitely not the mental image of Talcott practically crawling into his lap to suck his cock like a man possessed.

"I'm certain we will all work well together. And if you require anything more of myself or the estate, do feel free to ask."

Well it wasn't as though he was completely oblivious to an inkling of how the pair of them might have met. Yet with that rather raunchy display from Talcott (he can see what he's doing, he used to do the same to - well it doesn't matter), it's so very obvious. No wonder Ravus looks as though he might start digging straight through the stonework with that metal arm of his.

"Good to hear on both of your ends," he says, before taking a sip of coffee. Lets those words rest in the air for a moment. "Additionally, in favor of transparency, do let me know if the two of you plan to be busy with one another. I will have plenty to do and can always step away if need be."

For a moment Talcott is terribly, horribly pleased with himself. Then... he is genuinely pleased, impressed even, by the restraint Ravus does manage to show. He'd expected the man to fall apart, at least fumble his words. But that he manages such a coherent response with only a little bit of a cup slamming and blushing. Well... and resolutely not meeting anyone's eye.

All in all better than he'd expected.

And then Ignis murders them both in cold blood.

Talcott chokes on his coffee, scalding hot liquid going up his nose and this time he is the one that has to slam his cup down. It takes a moment to recover, yanking out a handkerchief, spluttering and coughing a little, his eyes watering because of the burning in his sinuses. When he's finally able to breathe again he's staring at Ignis in absolute horror. He tries to say something, anything really, but all he gets out is a stammered squeak of his partner's name, something pleading in even that single word.

What has he done?

Ignis may as well have pulled out a gun and shot them both. Ravus is pretty damn sure a bullet through his skull would have done less brain damage than this. He's struck, lost for words, for a solid few seconds before Talcott breathing in his hot coffee startles him out of it.

While Talcott is attempting to clear scalding liquid from his nose, Ravus is dragging a hand down his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. His face is heated bright read, flush all the way down to his chest. He's not sure if the coffee would be hotter, or his cheeks.

When Talcott clears his sinuses, Ravus throws him a deadly look. You did this.

"It's not- err, well..." Ravus trails off, unable to meet Ignis' gaze in the slightest. "It wasn't something we discussed at length-" No, no, that's even more damning. Ravus flounders, looking for any way to make this better. Seriously, Talcott? You couldn't just behave?

Not that Ravus should be surprised he can't, given exactly what happened. Ravus ends up practically deflating in his seat, not looking at either of them from sheer mortification, and grumbling, "it was one time."

Predictably, Ignis regrets nothing.

All he does is sit back and enjoy his coffee while Talcott recover as best as he is able, and Ravus attempts to will himself into a life that doesn't involve any of this. He'd offer Talcott a handkerchief, at least, but, well. His favorite assistant is well prepared there. Perhaps not prepared enough for the consequences of his actions, but prepared with a handkerchief.

Perhaps because of the hot liquid that went straight up his naval cavity, the poor man can hardly get himself to say anything more than a croak of Ignis's name, so it's Ravus who his gaze flickers to over the rim of his cup. Not something discussed at length, an embarrassing meeting at Hammerhead, a single time...

It was that ridiculous glory hole, wasn't it?

They're both dying well enough, however. Ignis keeps that bit of known knowledge tucked away to his chest instead of embarrassing them further. "Well, if you ever need to discuss it, now is a time as good as any," he says matter of factly. "He's a wonderful young man, after all, Ravus." His gaze flicks over to Talcott next, and there's just a flicker of an amused smirk before his expression schools itself. "And Talcott, while I normally wouldn't encourage fraternization... The King here would not be the worst partner."

There are so many things he needs to process in this moment.

The death glare from Ravus is certainly one of them but that is easily dismissed. He was expecting that for being an incorrigible tease. But he hadn't intended it to be a tease without... some manner of resolution. Ridiculous to think of, perhaps, but there'd been some part of him that had expected them to carry on like this for a week or so and then to end up on his knees in the King's bedchambers. Not just expected but, perhaps, even wanted to end up there.

What would be the point of goading Ravus like this if not to get a reaction from him? And maybe even one that would allow the sleeping daemonic form within his arm to come to the fore once more. Not even, necessarily, because he was so eager to have his throat ruined (never mind any nearby walls or furniture) but- Because there'd been something so sweet about the possessive words Ravus had rumbled, the way he'd allowed Talcott all the time he needed to learn and adapt to his size, claws skimming gently over his scalp like he was something to be treasured.

So Ravus collapsing in his seat, insisting so vehemently that it was one time and looking as though he'd rather die than even consider doing it again... It stings. More than he'd thought it would. He'd always known Ignis or Gladio would be upset with him if they found out but he'd never actually felt ashamed of himself until this moment.

Between the shame and the coughing fit his cheeks are dark scarlet and splotchy, not at all the pretty flush that Ravus had seen on him before.

Talcott finally, moves around to sit on the end of the couch opposite Ignis, taking another moment to swipe at his eyes from all the coughing, before he's doing his best to school his face back into something calm, collected. When he speaks, though, the coughing fit gives his voice the same rough texture it had that evening in the bathroom, speaking quietly to Ravus attempting to help him sort out the transformation his body had gone through.

"As His Majesty pointed out, it was only the once. I shouldn't presume anything so bold as offering a partnership. No matter the kind, Ignis." But his gaze doesn't return to Ravus, carefully focused on Ignis, trying to read his partner, to determine how much his cockiness has damaged this far more precious relationship. Hazel eyes flick briefly over to Ravus, something guarded there now. "Especially if it would take me from my work at your side. Even more so without- With no one else to assist you."

He's been keeping his gaze averted this entire time, and only catches brief amounts of motion. Not enough to supercede the embarrassment, and Ravus scowls as Ignis continues to tease them. Still, for all the humiliation of being called out like this, he doesn't immediately object to what Ignis says. Maybe they should have talked this out more. Then again, Ravus has no idea how he would have broached the subject at all. Or when he could. Being a whole continent away without reliable communication is not exactly a facilitating situation.

And would Talcott have cared? Wanted that at all? Wasn't this just something that he did, for anyone that might be in the know (or stupidly stumbled upon it like Ravus?). He's not presumed himself exactly special other than the novelty of the daemonic essence.

"I never said he wasn't," Ravus grumbles, but flicks his gaze up from the marble briefly.

That's when he notices the shift.

Talcott has moved away from him, he'd known that tangentially. But he has stayed moved away. His social ineptitude be damned, that look is something he knows isn't kind, and his own expression opens with something akin to concerned confusion.

But that's where his ability ends. Something is wrong, and Ravus has no idea what. He's built to navigate battlefields, not whatever this unknowable mental landscape is. As always, he's out of his depth, and while that has become his normal, it's still frustrating enough that he grits his teeth and turns his head away again.

"There was never any danger of ruining your work. As I told Ignis before, I am here to field cooperation, not hinder it." It doesn't matter that he's not being addressed. He's not about to let the implication slip. A moment of weakness, a stupid decision, giving into a singular instance of relief- it doesn't suit him in any mantle he takes: High Commander, King of Tenebrae, elder brother, none of it. He hadn't considered it such a grievous mistake until now. Enlightening.

If Talcott is looking for any judgment or disappointment in Ignis's face, he'll find no such thing as he makes the move from his chair to the couch. All there happens to be is the faint spark of curiosity as he feels Talcott's weight settle besides him and his gaze flickers over curiously.

Curiosity, which shifts then to something fond and warm which follows the small curve of his lips, the crinkle in his gaze. It has been rather rough, truth be told. On multiple levels.

And so, it's... It's nice, to have someone place such value on working alongside him like this. Even he's not immune to little things which flatter his ego now and then. Not to mention, if he were wholly honest with himself, then he likes the idea of Talcott placing him so importantly in his priorities.

As he said. Just a little thing to flatter the ego.

And it's not enough to cover the faint sting in his chest at the little slip up.

Even more so without - with no one else to assist you.

Except that hadn't been how the sentence was meant to end, was it? It wasn't meant to end with just words. There was supposed to be something else there instead. A name.

The warmth fades away, takes with it something else which makes Ignis's expression distant even the split second before he glances away and lets his gaze rest on Ravus. Poor bewildered Ravus, utterly lost and then trying to look away much like Ignis is so that he doesn't have to confront anything else more tender. Probably he doesn't even have a name for his own feelings.

Another sip. He's been going through the coffee too quickly; he always does. "I'll have you both notice that I was never the one to make any mention of anyone hindering anything," he points out mildly. "And I trust both of you a great deal; there was never any worry on my end that you would let it interfere with your work."

His hands on the coffee mug shift, one finger just high enough to trace the rim. "Who could judge any person for the feelings that come to them in times like these?" he asks quietly, looking down into the cup. "I'm not so stiff that I would do such a thing myself. Especially not to those who are so dear to me and have granted me such help, as evidence by all of us gathered together. Relationships are... precious things, now more than ever." A grind of his finger to the rim, and then he pulls it back, curled against the mug's side. "If you both enjoyed one another's company, that i all that I could ever truly wish for."

Taking a breath, Ignis looks up at them both. "And I feel you both could, very easily, enjoy one another's company. In whatever way you decided to try."

Ravus shifts so swiftly from surly to confused that it's almost... cute. No. It is cute, damn him, and the wariness that had come to his eyes softens when he offers up... not agreement, necessarily, to the traits Ignis has pointed out in Talcott but at least an insistence that he would not deny it. So. Maybe not so dismissive after all. Not that it makes it any clearer where they stand but Talcott allows the tension to ease out of him a bit more, return to something close to where he was when Ignis had first called them out.

And then even that fades as his own smile softens to match Ignis', something just as warm and fond as the smile Ignis gives him. Something that even a man like Ravus could see the utter devotion in if he cared to look up from his own grousing. Except then he has to watch that warmth slip away because his own foolish blunder and it's only the coffee cup in his hands that stops him from reaching out right then to put a hand on Ignis' arm, some sort of anchor to pull him back to him before he gets lost in the mire of his own thoughts. Regrets. That emptiness that he knows Gladio has left in his partner's very soul.

"Ignis..." It's barely more than a breath, nothing half so overt as the comfort he wants to give. Not with the King of Tenebrae beside them.

Ignis speaks not once but twice of how much he trusts Ravus, how dear he is to him, and Talcott looks back to the silver once more. This time something softer in his gaze, something just a little bit heartbroken. Something a little bit in love, when he nods his head towards Ignis, a subtle indication for the other man to come sit on Ignis' other side, to come help Talcott in supporting the man that means so much to the both of them.

Talcott sets his coffee down, gently reaches to extract Ignis' from his fingers so that he can take hold of one of those hands. "They are, Ignis. Of course they are. I think... maybe we need to have that talk you suggested more than I realized but there will be plenty of time for that later." He squeezes Ignis' hand, thumb rubbing over his knuckles gently.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" But of course Ignis knows that so instead he sighs, frowning and shaking his head. "I'm sorry he's being too stupid to recognize that."

It never occurs to him that Ravus would not know who they're talking about.

He doesn't. There's no name for the way his ribs suddenly aren't large enough to contain the way his heart hurts. Like it's all so much bigger than his body. It's not that he's immune to feelings, but that he's spent so long tamping them down that when they do well up it's almost explosive. But this? This doesn't feel like a bomb about to blow. It's subtlety is in its depth, like an ocean that's been forced between his ribs. It's just as choking, honestly. If he could drown in the shame of not understanding to the point he's caused Talcott hurt, this is how he imagines it would feel.

But he doesn't know, and how can he know? Ignis says he can't, and won't, judge the feelings that happen, and Ravus, honest as ever, believes him. It's not the judgement Ravus truly hurts over (he'll sulk, certainly, but that's all it is). It's the shame of letting his ignorance get the better of him. Again.

Relationships are... precious things, now more than ever. Ravus wouldn't know. The only meaningful ones he's ever had were with his dead sister, and his friendship with the melancholic man trying to hide his hurts in the dark reflection of his coffee. Because that is what Ignis is doing: hiding. Ravus sees it for what it is. It's perhaps one of those small things he can recognize.

So now Ravus watches. He keeps his odd gaze on the shift and tightening of Ignis' fingers around his mug. Thinks those graceful hands aren't suited for things like upset ticks. Thinks Ignis deserves better than being hurt at all.

That's about when he looks to Talcott. Ravus isn't blind. He knows devotion when he sees it. He knows they have something deeper that he doesn't understand. But he doesn't need to. He has a heart, and it aches for them both. The Night has been hard on everyone. He thinks they've seen enough of it all know the blight of suffering in its many different, sickly shades. He doesn't need to know the precise color of theirs to wish it all well again.

Talcott hardly needs to prompt him. Ravus is up from his seat and coming over with barely a glance. His real hand settles on Ignis' shoulder, a gentle pat to tell him he's there in case he's too in his own head, before he sits beside him too. He puts himself against Ignis' side like a fretting dog to their sick master. Unconditional worry. Whatever he and Talcott need to work out, they will, if only for Ignis' sake. But right now his own hurts are entirely from his mind. Something is eating Ignis alive, and Ravus has had suspicions of it since his arrival. There's a certain amount of overtaxing he expects from the man to inflict on himself. But it's barely been a day, and already Ravus has had to call him on it. Something that, if it's coming from Ravus, is more than a little concerning.

'"I'm sorry he's being too stupid to recognize that.' There's context he's missing. They're talking about someone gone from them, and Ravus furrows his brows as he leans a little heavier into Ignis' side. Someone has hurt Ignis. Context be damned, it flares up those old protective instincts. No one could evoke it quite like Lunafreya, but Ignis is the closest second to setting his heart ablaze with righteous anger in their defense.

"Who is 'he?'" Ravus asks, not out of anything as gentle as curiosity. His voice is soft, but deadly so. He doesn't want raise it while he's so near Ignis, but the promise of violent retribution probably isn't missed.

"It isn't that he doesn't recognize it," Ignis murmurs to Talcott, frowning as his fingers are pulled away from his coffee. And then - blast, then Ravus is sitting on his other side, trapping him between the two, and that protective quiet aggression is clear as a beacon.

Heaving out a sigh, he gives up on the rest of his coffee as it is - alright that isn't wholly what he does. What he does is down the rest of it in a single gulp, no matter how hard it burns all the way down his throat, and lean forward to set it down on the table. He doesn't plan on getting any of that in his nose, nor choke on it.

"My newly-made ex," he says, voice clipped. This isn't the conversation he really wanted to have tonight, or expected to have, but it's here now, and he knows well enough that he can't just slip away from it now that he's been asked upfront. "Who I made the choice to break up with before we could both get stuck in a rut. Which I don't regret in the slightest."

That doesn't do anything against the hurt, of little habitual thoughts that still cling to his heels. Leaving space available in a bed for someone with broad shoulders. Seeing new ingredients in Tenebrae and wondering if they'd fit his taste.

Little things because he was with him for so long, a part of him will always be changed by that.

It hurt.

But dammit, he refuses to let anyone think he's hurting from simply doing nothing.

"It's not important."

It softens the sting of Ravus' unintentional rejection, seeing the way he leans into Ignis, the worried anxiety that he exudes. The undercurrent of violence in his voice when he finally asks. Somehow that makes his own little hurts much more excusable, that Ravus is just as protective of Ignis as Tal is. As anyone who loves him would be.

"And my idiot brother." Tal tacks on to give Ravus more context without saying his name and having to see the way Ignis winces whenever it's said. But Talcott squeezes his hand again, holding it firmly and leaning lightly against him from the opposite side. Two dogs, worried for their Person's well-being.

But when Ignis tries to dismiss the topic, his own feelings and their concern Talcott squeezes his hand one more time, harder this time. He shakes his head and then he's shifting from his place at Ignis' side to crouch in front of him, those hazel eyes so unerringly earnest. Dangerously so in a world as broken as theirs.

"What did you just say? Relationships are precious. And that means so are you, Ignis." He captures his partners hand between both of his now and there's a moment where he wants to pull it up to his face, to kiss his knuckles and tell him precisely how precious but it's a foolish and fleeting urge. It doesn't matter how he's loved. It matters that he is.

"It's important because you're important. To both of us." The slightest glance over at Ravus, trusting the other man isn't going to argue this with him, no matter how difficult these things are for him to say. "I know there's nothing either of us could do to fix it but you don't have to pretend like you're not hurting either."

Watching, Ravus can only try to pull together various pieces of what feels like more than one puzzle. Ignis says it was his choice, and Ravus does believe him there. Yet he wonders, for all that Ignis insists he does not regret it, if even the man himself believes that bit. Does he think he has spared his lover some misfortune by not being beside him?

It doesn't feel like his place to broach that matter. Not right now, anyway. Not when Ignis is insisting his hurts are unimportant, and Ravus can think only of Lunafreya insisting the same. That the sacrifice mattered more, and Ravus feels his jaw tighten.

Talcott looks to him, and that brings Ravus' focus back to the present.

"As he says. You say this wound you clearly carry is unimportant. Yet I would caution you against such flippant remarks. I will not have anyone speak so dismissively of my friend, not even himself." Ravus looks back to Ignis, studies the weary lines in his face like he might divine the answer there. If he could do more, anything, really- because he refuses to submit to Talcott's statement... Ravus is simply not a man that accepts that totality. But he also doesn't know where to start. Namely, because, well, he has gotten the name of this ex yet.

But if he thinks about it, maybe he does already know. For Ignis to be hiding his emotional wounds, it has to be someone especially dear, not a fling he may have come across. Which makes Ravus think of the various people in that entourage that was a thorn in his side for so long.

It's Talcott's addition that snaps the pieces together though. In a way that makes Ravus nearly see red at the edges of his vision. Because he can hear Caligo's grating voice, and can still smell the cheap, confiscated wine clinging to his clothes. How proudly, how boldly, he rambled about murdering 'a feeble old man' for daring to defy him. For not submitting to the torture of interrogation. That a lowly retainer for a half-rate Lucian house like the Amicitias should consider himself lucky to be given the privilege of dying for the Empire. Perhaps he'd appreciate his darling grandson going first...

Ravus had called him a coward then, but he wishes he'd simply killed the man sooner. Split his guts so that one could not tell the blood from the wine that spilled out. That he'd entertained letting Caligo live for as long as he had will never not disgust Ravus, but this isn't about him. His gaze focuses sharply on Talcott for a moment.

Someone he considers family. Someone that is so close to Ignis it could make him sound like he's reciting a dirge...

“This is about Gladiolus, isn't it...?“

Oh, blast.

Ignis had already grimaces a little bit at Talcott making it more clear just who he's talking about, and he's validated extremely quickly by the particular edge to Ravus's tone when he just... puts it right there in the open. Plainly. With clear intent on what he thinks about that.

He hates this. Why did he do this to himself? He should have just stuck to making schedules and reading the books Talcott has brought up.

For all of Talcott's efforts, this particular twist in the conversation has Ignis's hands in his grip go carefully still - not that he's been particularly active ever since the two of them cornered him like this. "Yes, Gladio," he says, with all the reluctance of someone who'd rather just sever his own tendons than continue this conversation. "We dated for many years and split things only recently, which is a very good run and so should be respected for that."

Yes. It did last for many years, didn't it? His first relationship, which he thought would last a week, and then it didn't. And he kept seeing so many more good aspects in Gladio as the two of them kept moving forward, getting better in their fields, and he thought -

It doesn't matter.

(There would never be a wedding, maybe just moving in together. He wanted to invite Nyx to the closest of a wedding ceremony they'd get.)

That's in the past.

(He doesn't even know where Nyx's kukris are.)

What is he even doing here? Getting comfort that almost stings, when he could be doing so much more. When he could be validating all the work he's doing, making up for it - bringing items and ideas back to Lucis, helping make a bridge between the two countries again, clearing out whatever daemons he could come across, helping Ravus with Tenebrae so that Lucis isn't alone in the world-

He wants to get back to work. Ignis knows that neither Talcott or Ravus would let him.

So he steadies himself, finds some measure of calm in him even if it's only held by a small thread. "...But thank both of you," he says quietly. "I do appreciate that you are here for me. There is nothing to do about any other feelings, so all I can do is tell you to not worry on them."

The intensity of the look Ravus shoots his way has Talcott's brow furrowing briefly but it's not something he dwells on. Not when Ignis is hurting so badly and Talcott feels so helpless to make anything better. He can't be sure, they were both very private about it, but looking back on it he's pretty sure they were dating nearly Tal's entire life. Ignis had been as much a constant at the Amicitia household as the Marshal.

Grandpa had always told him that he should always plan for at least one extra whenever they were discussing the little things that Tal could help with back then, offering suggestions for meal planning or reminding his grandpa that Iris was more into kitties than butterflies when shopping for her school supplies. And there would always be small things tucked into every room that spoke of the frequency with which both men were in their home.

"Even if you don't regret it... he's been your other half as long as I can remember. No matter how warranted it might be it's still going to hurt like hell Ignis." Tal finally gives up on the last bits of propriety and he shifts back up, pulling Ignis into a tight embrace and knowing he's going to hate it, hate feeling like he's being coddled as much as Talcott would but for once even his uncanny intuition is no match for the tangled web of demands and stubbornness that have driven them to this point.

He knows Gladio is miserable too, he does. But he's done so much hovering that he's driving everyone crazy. Maybe it's not fair to put that on Gladdy. Probably not. Watching how much pain Ignis is in day in and day out, though. It's hard to see that as clearly as he'd like. His own frustrations, never mind how much it tears him to pieces seeing the rift between his siblings, only blurs that line further. Knowing it doesn't make it stop feeling like shit though.

Much as Talcott would like to keep Ignis held close in his arms until the other man finally allowed himself to break down and feel all the things he's been burying under work the odds of it happening are slim. Especially here in a foreign country with the King at his side. They may be friends but Ignis has had decorum drilled into him even harder than Talcott did and for far longer. So he will surrender the embrace after a moment, settling back down to hold his hand once more.

"You know very well how ineffective it is to tell someone not to worry."

If he had a better sense of decorum, Ravus likely could have kept the name from his lips. Unfortunately, it's not until he sees the way Ignis' expression twists, and thinks better of it. A pang of guilt slips between his ribs, but at the same time, he thinks perhaps it's better to speak of a devil then dance around his name. Directness has always been his approach.

But the tone Ignis takes is too clear to miss, even for him. This isn't a subject he wants broached. Ravus wishes he could respect that, he really does, but at the same time, he thinks he's let enough mistakes fester into fatal wounds that sometimes hiding behind things like etiquette is a worse option. Or perhaps it's that he respects Ignis too much to let him suffer it silently. Either way, Ravus can only watch as Talcott hugs him and speaks with greater tact than Ravus could ever manage.

He lets them be until Talcott shifts back again. Ravus sets his hand on Ignis' shoulder, patting him with a solid, but gentle thump.

"Hiding pain is something a sick animal must do to survive. But you needn't find yourself in such a state. You are among those that would rather see your hurts to better help you through them. Shoulder your burdens however much you can- it's in your nature, after all. Your unwavering tenacity, ever present- but know that those that care for you will worry regardless. It only means you are loved."

There is a subtle but distinct tension when Talcott pulls him in so suddenly. When's the last time that he let himself be held so close? A while, certainly. He's always known Talcott to be strong, capable, all of that, but it's different to feel that with those arms wound tight around him.

Something shifts in his chest, dislodged just a little, from all the warmth around him. But, as they separate, he mentally tucks it away again. Keeps it secure in place.

It's one of the only things he has left, after all. He's quickly becoming in short supply these days.

"Thank you," he says quietly, reaching up to rest his fingers over Ravus's. "I'm sure I'll recover just fine in time. One of those things." Probably one of those things. "At any rate, we've had quite a journey coming here. Do you two need a refill of your coffee? Or perhaps more napkins, Talcott?"

Because he needs a refill of his coffee, that's for certain.

Talcott has a moment where he has to look over to Ravus, surprised in a way to hear him call Ignis out quite that neatly. But he's right. He only has one thing to add to it, one he knows Ignis would simply accept as fact, may already have done just that. "And just surviving isn't enough." Not enough for Ignis, not enough for anyone to make it through this Long Night. There has to be something more or there won't be anything left of the person that used to exist in the sunlight.

It's only the fact that Ignis takes the initiative to reach out, to lay a hand over Ravus' on his shoulder, (and the tiniest twinge of envy that sparks in his belly) that lets Talcott surrender to Ignis' attempt at levity. He sighs heavily, leaning exaggeratedly against Ignis' other shoulder, not just snug this time but with his fell weight pushing his partner into the guard dog at his side.

"We were on a boat for weeks, Ignis, I think we're allowed to not drink endless coffee and stay up for the next 3 days buried in research." But the temptation is right there, so much information begging to be uncovered. After the weeks at sea feeling useless, pacing the deck like a caged animal, having paper in hand again is a comfort. If he indulges it though Ignis will stay up with him and for that he will restrain himself. At least for tonight. Let him rest after the long journey and maybe combat some small measure of his fatigue.

"Either way, napkins aren't going to cut it." Tal leans a little harder for a moment, meeting Ravus' gaze over Ignis' head. Hopefully the king will understand the request. To hold him close for the both of them while Talcott gets up. "I wasn't sure if you had a preference on the sleeping arrangements so I didn't unpack, really. I can work on that while you two catch up."

And it's clear why he's saying it as he moves over to their luggage, unzipping one of the duffles so he can strip off his coffee soaked shirt in disgust and yank a clean tee back on instead, softer, almost threadbare. But it's late enough in the evening he doesn't see any point in not just throwing on a pajama top.

Ignoring the question of what he needs isn't unusual, so he doesn't think to cover for it while he muses. Ravus doesn't know what 'one of those things' is, but it doesn't sound altogether optimistic. The guilty pang in his chest deepens like a shard in his heart.

"So you both have," Ravus pointedly reminds him that the 'we' Ignis touts includes himself. "And what you need is rest." He looks to Talcott briefly. Catches the look, but struggles for what it means. He's not terribly good at these sorts of things, but he has a guess. When Talcott moves to change his shirt, Ravus slides his hand from Ignis' shoulder, and across his back to the opposite side of him. It's about as close to nervous hover handing as one gets, yet still touching him. He doesn't want Ignis to be uncomfortable, but by the same token, he's been given the important task of comforting him, and Ravus does so hate failure.

So he leans into the other, arm around him to hold him close, and hopes it's acceptable. Never mind the flutter of his heart about it.

"Rest will do you better than any amount of caffeine. What point is there in doing your work at subpar levels at this hour? Conserve yourself for tomorrow. Talcott already has the right of it. You ought to do the same, or are you letting your assistant be the far more reasonable one than his teacher?"

He has to do more than just surviving, is that so? Ignis has to wonder. Has he earned more than that? For a brief moments, he remembers the arguments he'd had before, with Libs, with Cor, with Gladio. About how many people needed him. And he knew that, of course. How couldn't he know that? But he needed time to research. To pursue his leads. He can't spare all of his time like they do, he has to have the time to look into these things, and he knows there are people that are just surviving with all of this, so what right does he even have to do the same until -

Ravus leans into him, and that sizeable pectoral front of his bumps into Ignis's side hard enough to knock him out from his thoughts. A small sound, not unlike a cat that's been mildly disturbed, leaves him. "I would never do subpar work," Ignis says, which may very well could be a problem in its own right, but he's not talking about that. "Besides, I told you that I would come up with a position for myself that would allow me into your court, so I do need to finish that up by tonight."

Ugh. But they won't be happy with that. He'll have to at least verbally make some concessions. "Just that in terms of paperwork," he promises, before looking over to Talcott. Sometimes, he really does get a reminder of how quickly he's grown into a fine young man. Dizzying, sometimes, although his mind can't really make more thoughts on it than that. "We can share a bed, Talcott. The ones here are certainly large enough for two to rest comfortably in."

And it will be nice, he supposes, to sleep in a proper large bed like this than a camper, or in a sleeping bag.

As far as Talcott is concerned everyone should be striving for more than just barely surviving. What's the point if no one has any hope left? He wants, if nothing else, the people he loves to be able to seize the moments they can have of happiness. There's so much misery already.

"We can all brainstorm on a position for you, Iggy." And his choice to let that nickname slip in there is intentional too, something softer, something decidedly not for work spaces. Just one more little nudge towards setting the work down for a moment.

"I figured you'd say that but I wanted to check first." He nods but pointedly does not look back over at the men on the couch, busying himself with unpacking things. Are there more than enough rooms in this vast castle that they could have separate rooms? Probably. But Talcott doesn't particularly like the idea of being so far from Ignis. They're used to sharing small spaces when they are on the road, even if they rarely indulge in anything so extravagant as a bed.

Besides, just because this place is massive doesn't necessarily mean much. Not when so few places are safe, not when those fleeting safe spaces are housing so many more than usual. The fact that they have this entire room with it's sitting area and own bathroom and everything is already more luxurious than any accommodations they've had in... Well. A long time.

If there's part of him that is pleased with that arrangement then he'll try not to let the guilt over it impact him too much. At least not enough for Ignis to pick up on it. Maybe... at the very least he can make sure Ignis gets some decent rest. Keep him from slipping out of bed in the middle of the night. Maybe even be a comforting warmth at his side. (Even if he knows he is certainly not the person Ignis would prefer to be sleeping beside.)

"Now I know that you are tired. I said work at subpar levels, not that you would produce subpar work." Ravus says, tone mild even if he's borderline scolding.

"The paper work only," Ravus agrees. There's a moment where he thinks to question the bed arrangement. There's more than enough guest rooms to house them both seperately if they wished. Then again, perhaps they feel safer that way? The Night has given everyone paranoid habits, and Ravus isn't one to question matters of survival like that. He thinks little else of it. Certainly not any further implications that could be more pleasant than survival.

"Without the sun to tell the passage of time, my staff cylce through at all hours. If either of you would feel safer with a guard at the door, I could easily arrange that. Fenestala's unique geography keeps it relatively secure though."

"It's practically the same thing," is the muttered complaint, but Ignis doesn't argue more on the matter. Sometimes one simply has to give up on an argument just to get out of it and so that precious time isn't wasted on trivial matters like that.

It's not exactly always pleasant to do, granted, depending on the argument, but...

Well.

Best not to dwell on that for too long.

It's better to focus on more practical things, and Ignis considers the idea of a guard. In the few places of safety back in Lucis, there are indeed always guards also posted at all hours - to the entrances of Lestallum (especially the tunnel), all around the perimeter of Hammerhead. Even at Caem, someone is always watching, and not just for daemons. The lighthouse is a vital piece of equipment... and so someone must always be sure that it is still shining bright.

But for just themselves, their room? "No, I hardly think that's necessary," he says with a shake of his head. "Talcott and I would pick up on anything which could be an issue for us, as we have in the past." He sleeps light, after all. Old habit. The kind that keeps his internal clock always on time.

And that's when he can sleep, anyway.

Talcott nods along with Ignis' decision on the guard front. "Your guards would be better served tending to people that are less capable of defending themselves. If anything... It might be wise to warn them away from lingering too near on their patrols." He hasn't personally done it but he can vividly recall the number of times early in the Night when someone (Iris most often) would mean to sneak outside. Not even necessarily to be sneaky but merely trying not to wake anyone else only to have a katana at their throat before the Marshal knew who had been lingering at the top of the stairs at the Cape. Ignis would be just as deadly but he too would have a moment, at least, to register that the person wasn't actually a threat. Talcott... might not. His abilities lean too heavily on stealth and surprise.

The last thing they need to do is end up attacking some poor guard because he was hovering near their door.

But as he's shoving clothes into drawers he has a moment where he pauses, frowning and turning to eye Ignis uncertainly. "I hate to say it but-" Socks, underwear, undershirts... then he leans back against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. "If you mean it to be some sort of... collaboration between countries, an administrative position, just so you can take notes and have reason to be there."

Hazel eyes drift down briefly, then he meets Ravus' mismatched gaze for a moment, gauging. He knows Ignis won't like it however accurate the title would be. But he doesn't know how Ravus would take it. "Technically... the most accurate option would be Chancellor."

It's not. Ravus will argue this all day- night- whatever time it actually is. But it's a moot point to really make, and he sighs instead. He's sure Ignis will fall into pedantics if he even tries, and Ravus would rather let it, and him, rest.

"I will have my guard keep to the perimeter then. Rarely do we see attacks anymore after demolishing the bridge in from the cliffs. Flying daemons are a rarer breed than most others."

And if Talcott hates to say it, Ravus hates to hear it even more.

"No." The snarl is an unmoving decree, something that can be felt as well as heard. Seems for as much as Ravus has mellowed, there's old hatreds that refuse to die.

It doesn't even take Talcott actually speaking for Ignis to already tell that something unpleasant may be heading his way. All this time, and he can recognize what it means when the young man pauses just so in the middle of a task. Having him frown he glances over is really only a seal over the matter.

That doesn't mean he's any happier to hear the particular title which Talcott suggests. Probably he'd personally been trying not to think about it himself, but..... He can't deny it'd be fitting.

He just also can't deny that Ravus might chew through concrete over it.

"Technically, it would be," he agrees, as though Ravus's growl didn't just reverberate throughout his entire skeleton. "But perhaps it may be better, politically speaking, if we brainstormed an idea for a title which would not make Ravus spit venom upon the floor every time he had to speak it. That would rather damage my own reputation, I think, or at least invite unnecessary gossip. There are a few things we could be flexible with, I think. Even just as a dignitary, as an off-hand example."

The growl from Ravus is perfectly human but it brings to mind the decidedly inhuman rumble to his voice the last time they'd been in one another's company. It's something that, even in such drastically different circumstances makes his breath hitch ever so slightly and he's swiftly turning back to his task to hide the way color floods his cheeks. He's usually much better at hiding these sorts of stupid hormonal reactions, especially around Ignis, but he's already been so flustered this evening that it's little wonder his defenses are... imperfect tonight.

"I knew it would not be likely but... I hadn't expected His Majesty's reaction to be quite so visceral." A brief glance back at them, hazel eyes watching Ravus carefully. Was it his turn, now, to upset the man without meaning to? He sighs softly, crouching down to start shoving most of his clothes into the dresser. Ignis is the one that has neat things that will need to be hung. None of Talcott's clothes are of high enough quality to need such care. Pretty much everything he owns at this point is hand-me-downs. It isn't as though anyone has time to be worried about producing anything remotely fashionable these days. Practicality is the rule.

"It wouldn't hold as much weight. I think, while you are still working out precisely what capacity you mean to work with Ravus in, chargé d'affaires would work nicely? What those affairs are can come later. Or wait until things are more stable and there can be a proper ambassador for Lucis here."

Ravus would not consider himself perceptive on most human responses. But there's something about the hitch in Talcott's voice before he turns away that has him pulled slightly from his anger, and into confusion. He's also blissfully unaware of the fact with a sound that deep and primal, he's just rattled Ignis' entire frame with it.

Ravus isn't upset with Talcott, only the memory of that bastard Ardyn. But that's not easy to get across with the way his jaw is tightened, and his already severe expression doesn't slacken when he speaks.

"I would rather work through lesser options than have any reminder of that snake about. Least of all having to utter his title at any point." He's been reasonable about compromise so far, he's bowed and given up plenty to make things work for this. But there are some things Ravus won't budge on, and his sister's killer is that stone wall.

No doubt dignitary wouldn't fit at all, but it'd really only been a placeholder, something to soothe Ravus's aggravated nerves. It's a pleasure to know that, even with the quite clear reaction Talcott has to the sounds Ravus make, his assistant can so easily leap off of Ignis's own idle suggestion to make something far more solid.

"You won't have to worry, Ravus." Finally, he reaches up to try and gently pry Ravus's hand off of his shoulder, and pats it lightly. "Fortunately, it seems that Talcott has managed to land on exactly what should work to our advantage. The Tenebraen is a rather nice touch, in fact, and will work to my advantage more than anything else." He doubts Talcott will see it, but he still smiles over to the back of his head.

"The associated term for chargé d'affaires would be Counsellor. More acceptable, do you think Ravus?"

He doesn't need to see the smile to hear it in Ignis' voice and for that alone he can push aside whatever thoughts might still be haunting him about the King of Tenebrae and glance back to catch a glimpse of it. These small moments, these quiet happinesses. Sometimes it feels like it's all they have left.

But Talcott smiles even wider when Ignis mentions the form of address used for his new position. "Counsellor Scientia." He repeats it with a slight Tenebraen lilt to it, then tilts his head a little, brow furrowing slightly as he sifts through his memories. "Wasn't that also what your Uncle was called, Ignis? Different spelling but I could've sworn it was Councilor..." He'd still been so young the few times Ignis' uncle's name had come up, though, he doubts his memory. It was just the sort of thing he'd go through his grandfathers notes asking a million questions about.

Ignis' hand on his own has him uncurling his fingers from where's gripped down perhaps a bit tighter than he meant to. He sighs, which is almost a growl with the way he pushes it from his chest. While he doesn't shift away from Ignis, he does lean back against the couch, quickly composing himself again. Any mention of Ardyn is quick to rile him, but he doesn't wish to be boiling over around his guests.

"Yes, that will do." Ravus gives an approving nod, glad to have their second choice work well enough that they don't have to dwell further. "I imagine that having the proper pronunciation will, subconsciously or not, help acclimatize them to you."

Which is all he can really ask for. And at the mention of the title being a familiar one, Ravus arches a brow. His odd gaze flicks to Ignis almost expectantly.

So it's settled. Counsellor Scientia. A funny sensation of nostalgia. Still, so long as it gives him any sort of small advantage, Ignis will take it, and that it has Ravus's agreement makes it the best option.

That seems as though it will do for the conversation... Except then Talcott mentions that little fact, and the nostalgia grows more in the back of his head. Ravus is hardly subtle either, for all that he doesn't say a word. "It was," he admits, because it's not as though it's some grand secret. Just a strange one for anyone to remember, in his opinion. "I'm surprised you can recall that, Talcott. His time was quite a while ago."

He inclines his head to Ravus. "Councilor Tan Scientia. While my family has always been connected to the royal family as retainers, that mostly meant a lot of them simply took on government roles." It had been a long while, from what he understood, for a Scientia to become so close to the Caelums as he did, when Regis decided to introduce him to his one and only son. "You wouldn't have met him, I'm afraid. He never did get a grasp on Tenebraen, and mostly did work relating to Accordo."

And, you know.

Maybe helped spywork now and again.

But that's normal, thinks the man who takes on 15 different jobs at any given time even when he's not having an extended lowkey panic attack and after-break up heartache.

Talcott merely shrugs, not really having a good reason to explain why he remembers such a thing. He's long since stopped questioning the seemingly endless strings of facts his mind latches onto.

"I think... maybe he had a few appointments with Master Clarus? I used to try to memorize Grandpa's notes. Just... in case-" In case what? No idea. In case he needed the information in there for some reason. In case he could help sometime by remembering all the names of every dignitary that visited the house. Did he, maybe, have dramatic ideas of someday being able to quietly supply a name Gladio or Iris might have forgotten and saving them from some social disaster. Silly little snippets of knowledge that might have made him a hero, if only for a moment.

He was 8 okay, don't judge him for the silly practical things that he used to daydream about.

Nodding, Ravus seems to enjoy listening to these small facts. In truth, he just likes listening in general. There's something about the small, seemingly mundane parts of people's lives that seat themselves neatly in his idle thoughts. How he'd love to listen to Lunafreya's excited prattle about anything or Prompto's endless chatter about whatever caught his attention. So merely listening to Ignis and Talcott go on has him settling down from his earlier ire, until he's addressed.

"I was not often involved in my mother's politics as a child. I would train with my own uncles while Lunafreya was expected to be at her side learning about other diplomats. And in Niflheim... Well, I was not privy to much until I was much higher of rank. Certainly nothing of Accordo was in my vicinity until late."

Ravus furrows his brows at the mention of Clarus though. Mainly, he recounts his untimely death... And the later death of Talcott's grandfather. His gaze flicks to Talcott briefly. He wonders now with morbid curiosity... How much has Empire taken that he hadn't stopped?

"If you'll pardon my asking. Tan, is he alive still?"

Hearing Talcott's fumbled waved off excuses earns a fond smile. Even if they aren't the exact same person, he does have to wonder at those little habits which reminded him so much of what he strove to do as a child as well. The desire to be useful, to be seen as just a little older, to help those he loved...

Perhaps that is just in their nature, men like them, even from when they were young.

He wonders if it's the same as his attention is drawn back to Ravus, nodding along with the words he says. Considering the matriarchal way of things with the Fleurets, this isn't a surprise. Of course he would have been trained as primarily a guard, rather than someone who had cause to know politics.

In contrast, he knows that when he was young, his uncle...

Ah.

"Oh, no," he says mildly, returning to his coffee. "He died long ago, now. A little under a year from when Noctis first graduated, thus having it been over a year before we all left Insomnia. It was nothing dramatic, really. He simply... neglected to go see a doctor when he really should have." Bad habits that finally caught up with him, is what Ignis would normally say, except, well. He knows how that would look, with things being what they are.

He knows, of course, that his uncle did slightly better habits - slightly, not fully - when they were living together. More complete meals, moving around a little more, things like that. Probably it all backslid when Ignis first moved out.

Back then, he used to wonder sometimes on what would have happened if he'd just stayed. If he could have spotted something ahead of time. If his uncle wouldn't have kept up those various little bad habits which had lead to his heart problems...

Well. As he said. It's been years, now.

"I'm simply glad that he was able to die back home in Insomnia." Before everything went so dark, both for the city and then, later on, for all of them.

"Refusing to seek help when it was needed, hmm?" Talcott says it sympathetically but there's a sharpness to his gaze that belies the softer tone. He would never be so cruel as to say something so heartlessly but there's an understanding there that he doesn't need Ignis to voice for him to be just as keenly aware of it. And, internally, he vows to remove the small things Ignis so casually does to himself that only perpetuate that same cycle of overwork.

Dark eyes flick to Ravus, briefly, watching to see how he responds, to see if he recognizes the careful wording for what it is.

Only to be derailed from that line of thought by what Ignis says next. It's a blink that shifts his gaze back to Ignis, he'd swear it, but there's a flinch that accompanies it, hazel meeting that stunning emerald for a heartbeat before he looks away. Right... he- he was putting clothes away. Folding things more neatly than they'd had space to on the boat. Anything to do with his hands other than acknowledge the stab of pain that comes with those words. His voice is quiet when he murmurs an answer but he he can't look at either of them for a long moment.

"A mercy few are afforded these days." Dying in the peace and comfort of one's home, not stooped and forced to kneel before a brute of a man, not with their guts spilled onto the pretty pristine wooden paneling of a hotel room floor. It isn't the first time he's wished his grandpa hadn't aged quite so well as he had and it won't be the last. But... he has clothes to put away, things to do, important things. If anyone should be upset here it's Ignis. It's his Uncle they're talking about.

He could very well chide Ignis for his overworking again, something that seems to now be genetically inclined. It'd be amusing if it were less disparaging of his health. But Talcott says enough to get the point across, so Ravus keeps quiet. As much as he feels the need to fuss, sometimes pushing it on so sensitive a subject as a familial death isn't worth it. He'd learned that the hard way with Lunafreya.

The moment passes, but Ravus catches enough of Talcott looking at him to let his focus linger there. It's not hard to see the despondent way he turns back to his tasks, that morbid comment on his lips.

Is it his place to speak? When he's been no small part of the force that took peace from these people? Ignis speaks of a quiet death in the comfort of home, but that home is gone. And Talcott... Well, Ravus already has regrets of not murdering Caligo earlier.

"There will be gentle deaths again one day. Homes to house those passings. Still, my condolences." To both of them, really.

His uncle, perhaps.

But something all too familiar to so many of them. A worry for all of them. A source of pain. How many wish they could die in a place that they at least loved and were familiar with, rather than off alone somewhere in the dark? How many wish that for all those they love? How many have experienced that?

Two, in ways, in this very room. And him, haunted by the very imagery of it, constantly biting at his heels.

He knows.

"It is what we all work for," he says quietly, before finishing his second cup of coffee for the night and rising to his feet. "Thank you regardless, Ravus. We appreciate the sentiment. Still, the time is drawing late... Would you want to stay a while longer to chat with Talcott?"