Have I not just said? He has turned his sights to far more important things than tending me. [ And yet, Eridanus' words do touch on the space within Lucius' mind where his scant few insecurities lie buried, stubbornly unexamined lest they be made real by their acknowledgement. It is not Fulgrim's abandonment that haunts that untouched space, however, but that of Slaanesh. The barb manages to cool his fevered blood without provoking the cold fury Eridanus' last disrespect had earned him, and Lucius' lunatic smile shrinks to something that is sly in kind. ] But not to worry — that any one of my brothers is capable of replacing me is not something I fear.

[ The inside of his head still pounds, and as he pads back toward the couch, there is something that would nearly be a drunken sway to his step, if not for how sure-footed every stride seems to be regardless. ]

I wonder, how long as it been since I've felt his touch? [ The question is plainly rhetorical, and he laughs at it. A second later, he drains the rest of the wine from his glass, and, heedless of its fragility or the remnants of the wine still pooled within its basin, he tosses it aside. ] Eridanus, this jealousy is unbecoming of you. You are special to me. Do you think even Fulgrim loves me so deeply that he wishes for us to be joined together for all time?

[ Standing before Eridanus, Lucius splays both hands at his hips. It's an invitation, but for what is for Eridanus to decide. ]