[Oh boy, is communication tough or what. Emil is so glad they decided to do this before he tries dragging Lalli out to eat dinner in public like a pair of bonafide real people. Really, that's honest; if this had to happen, better here, in the privacy of their own room. And it... probably does have to happen. They're on such different wavelengths about this laughably simple thing that happened yesterday&madsh; ten minutes, tops, and now they've been dealing with the fallout for a whole day.
Truly, communication is the hardest thing Emil has ever done. He wants nothing more than to run his fingers through Lalli's hair- you know, in like, a friend way- and tell him that everything really is fine, and have him believe it. That would be perfect! But that's not what's happening here. He's not even sure which things aren't okay, if he's being honest...
He has this much: there was definitely that weird bit about him being a dream, and then Lalli literally ran away from him. Are these the things that aren't okay? It's the best he can do.]
For... running away for a whole night?
[That part? The thing that was actually wrong? He can no longer restrain himself from reaching up to touch his fingertips to Lalli's... wrist; do not hide behind these hands, boy.]
I'm not mad at you, you know. Yesterday, I thought... uh.
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Truly, communication is the hardest thing Emil has ever done. He wants nothing more than to run his fingers through Lalli's hair- you know, in like, a friend way- and tell him that everything really is fine, and have him believe it. That would be perfect! But that's not what's happening here. He's not even sure which things aren't okay, if he's being honest...
He has this much: there was definitely that weird bit about him being a dream, and then Lalli literally ran away from him. Are these the things that aren't okay? It's the best he can do.]
For... running away for a whole night?
[That part? The thing that was actually wrong? He can no longer restrain himself from reaching up to touch his fingertips to Lalli's... wrist; do not hide behind these hands, boy.]
I'm not mad at you, you know. Yesterday, I thought... uh.
[Oof, how does one do this? Give him a second.]
I thought it was nice?