[The threat of those dark, pearlescent claws shivers through Eridanus, pricking his stone-skin in gooseflesh that almost seems out of character for its density. Only mere days have passed, where he hasn't felt the pressure and warmth of Lucius' overbearing touch, but it doesn't stop the desperate yearning that unfurls through his breast and quickens his heart. A flush unlike the ruddy hue of his previous hide colors his cheeks, but the way his body readily responds to the manipulation of his consort's overlarge hand doesn't reach his expression. Even in the tensed air between them, his sharp eyes remain leveled upwards in haughty disobedience.]

Protect us, or protect yourself? [Pulse thunders in his ears as his eyes narrow into predatory slits. His weathered visage pinches with growing rage, but even with a jerk of his chin, Eridanus cannot tear himself from the claws that grasp him—the strength the fog lends Lucius currently greater than his own.]

If I am such a weakness for you, perhaps I will do you the favor of keeping my distance.

[Despite the words roused with his anger, he feels the way his stomach ties itself into knots—a quagmire of emotion that readily pulls him down into the inescapable muck. To be without Lucius for even a second is torture, and yet, the man himself seems completely unbothered. Perhaps he is more replaceable than he previously thought—the mere thought of which sickens him.]