Malleus does not move. He does not try to get up, or leave. He doesn’t even look away, though he dearly wants to. There is overwhelming confusion, mixed with something deep and frustrating, needy, wanting. It’s like when Lilia is busy with something else and leaves Malleus alone for extended periods of time. It swirls with shame, embarrassment, and a sort of bashfulness that Malleus is not at all used to.

Ah… if he does not calm down, the weather threatens to take a turn for the grim.

“Lilia.” Malleus’s voice is… low. Firm. “Do not pity me, nor treat me as a child.”

He has always looked after Malleus, but as naive as he is, Malleus knows this is not something to be taken lightly. Lilia cannot just ‘help’ him through something this personal.