That... sort of thing is the opposite of what my doctor usually recommends.

[Ah, but his face is still red, and he's still naked and pressed up against Gladio. Is this fine? It feels fine, and everything that had been said the night before was... nice. He thinks? He can't remember every detail.

But he watches his own finger draw a curious line down Gladio's chest before turning it into a star.]

I can't make anything like that, you know. Even if I could, I feel as though it would be difficult to move, let alone try that.