[ He's halfway to dozing, breathing slow and even where he's slowly relaxed on top of Cayde. The words almost seem to float by unnoticed, too, but he eventually hums a quiet note of agreement and tips his head enough his forehead presses against Cayde's chin. ]
Prob'ly good you didn't bring soup, then. [ The words are only just distinguishable from one another, slurred into the back of his hand. ] No one likes old soup.
no subject
Prob'ly good you didn't bring soup, then. [ The words are only just distinguishable from one another, slurred into the back of his hand. ] No one likes old soup.