[ So small as it is, the smile that finds its way to Eridanus' face warms Lucius from the inside. (It never has to be a question of selfishness or affection when the answer is both.) His own takes on a familiar impish cast, lips parting to better show the sharp points of his teeth as he purrs, ] Don't tempt me, Eridanus.

[ Indeed, it wouldn't be hard. For now, though, Lucius sets the glasses side by side and fills them both. ]

That is good information to have. I'll remember it, my Archmage. But even if it isn't your usual preference, I think you'll enjoy this.

[ Lucius sits where Eridanus makes room, and then he is as quick to touch as ever. His hand slides around the back of his neck, and at the feel of that long hair pulled loose, he idly loops a lock of it around his fingers, simply to taste its texture against his skin. ]

Many millennia ago, on the eve of every battle, the Legion would gather together and toast to our upcoming victory. [ Nostalgia is not something he cares to indulge in, nor hold in particularly high esteem, but there is a hint of it in his voice now. ] I suppose we still do, from time to time, but it's... a much more exceptional occasion, now.

[ Not that Eridanus may realize it, but for Lucius, to share such a little, pointless anecdote, about days left well behind, is something akin to an expression of fondness. ]