[That stutter gives him pause, worried eyes flicking back to theirs for signs of discomfort, but their gaze is fatigue and questions and nothing more. Right. Okay. Siffrin isn't used to regular touch, so something as intimate as this has got to be a little... Weird isn't the right word for it, but new doesn't quite cover the same ground. Somewhere in between weird and new is the space he ought to give them to suss out their own feelings on this whole cuddling thing. He's trying to keep in mind how Siffrin asked him to handle things like this earlier. So... he waits. Rests his arm further against them as their tension ebbs, and feels his heart sigh as they nestle in with him, finding contentment at their own pace.
Having an arm settle around his waist in turn is his own sign to relax, and Isabeau sinks so thoroughly into Siffrin's warmth, and the bed, that he's liable to fall through it, despite that being physically impossible. He's so happy, he could surely find a way. He's so happy, it's a good thing he's also completely drained of energy by this point, or he might be too giddy to fall asleep.]
Sure. Would be easy enough to move you.
[His mumble of a reply is placid warmth, whispered close enough that he can see the way his breath flutters through their bangs. Lashes lower in thought, and he gradually lifts his hand from Siffrin's back, reaching up to brush those bangs aside, tucking bright hair behind his ear. He's so pretty. Isabeau won't say that. He won't kiss their forehead like he wants to either, opting to stare for just a moment, perhaps a bit too longingly, before returning his hand to their back.]
You can sleep as late as you want. I think we all will.
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Having an arm settle around his waist in turn is his own sign to relax, and Isabeau sinks so thoroughly into Siffrin's warmth, and the bed, that he's liable to fall through it, despite that being physically impossible. He's so happy, he could surely find a way. He's so happy, it's a good thing he's also completely drained of energy by this point, or he might be too giddy to fall asleep.]
Sure. Would be easy enough to move you.
[His mumble of a reply is placid warmth, whispered close enough that he can see the way his breath flutters through their bangs. Lashes lower in thought, and he gradually lifts his hand from Siffrin's back, reaching up to brush those bangs aside, tucking bright hair behind his ear. He's so pretty. Isabeau won't say that. He won't kiss their forehead like he wants to either, opting to stare for just a moment, perhaps a bit too longingly, before returning his hand to their back.]
You can sleep as late as you want. I think we all will.