Something happens in that moment, and perhaps if Phillip thought about it a bit more, thought about what being called the Warrior of Light might imply, he could figure it out. But he doesn’t, and Gustavain moves fluidly enough to his knees to distract him for the moment. If he’s undeterred, it’s probably not important, right?

He lets out a low sigh as he feels the lips against his skin, reaching up to thread a hand through the other’s long hair, a gentle, stroking motion. It’s still a very tender touch, a fondness clearly present that at bare minimum would be exceedingly difficult to fake. As would be the interest evident through his small clothes.