[ Perhaps it's those intoxicating drafts he had pulled from the bottle himself, but as he is met with that adoring smile, Lucius finds he can do nothing but laugh. He supposes they are lovers, in a sense, but even so, to treat him like one—the absurdity of it makes his shoulders hitch, mirth overflowing from his throat like water left too long to boil. ]

If any brother of mine saw the way you look at me, they'd think you more insane than I am. [ Even as he chokes down his laughter, his shoulders shake with the humor of it all. ] And perhaps they would be right! We'll see what you have to say, once you've seen it for yourself.

[ And yet, as his trembling shoulders finally still, he sinks down as if the shape of Eridanus was a bed made just for him. He finds his collar a comfortable enough place for his head to rest, and so he lays it there, thinking to himself that he's lucky Eridanus is so easily impressed by the sight of him in this frail, mortal body. The thought settles over him like the arms of a peaceful sleep, and his limbs relax in a way they so rarely do. ]

Whenever you wish, my Archmage.