The wide world

Pontifex's answer to Emile's question would catch the sandy man off guard, and he did an absolutely shit job of hiding it. It wasn't the god comment, no, while Emile himself was agnostic at best he knew there were many beliefs in the world and would not judge anyone else for having their own... But the compliment. It practically rocked him off his paws. It took much longer than it should have for Emile to realize his mouth had dropped open slightly, even longer to finally slam it just so he wasn't just gaping at Pontifex. As for the blood painting his face pink? Well, there was very little he could do about that, much as he wanted to hide how deeply the other man had just managed to make him blush. He did not have a retort, did not have a response at all. Emile did not think of himself as particularly attractive, it was hard to when you harbored as much self-loathing as he did, but more than that he considered himself rather plain at best. His face notwithstanding he did not think he was particularly remarkable, mostly boring in coloration and whatever potential handsomeness he'd once possessed had been completely removed on the night the fireflies had marred the flesh around his eye. So yeah, it was pretty easy to say that he'd not been expecting to hear that answer from Pontifex, especially when the man who spoke them looked as he did. Emile, for all he struggled to trust others, for all he struggled to connect with others could at the very least see that Pontifex was stunning, which really only made him feel even more like he was nothing special.

Unluckily for Emile while he was stuck with his mind reeling it seemed Pontifex was ready to keep forging onwards. The man prodding some, digging to see if Emile would answer as to what he'd been thinking about. Emile swallowed the lump in his throat, mentally cursed the still spreading warmth in his face, and tried to find the words he needed. His mind was not helped by the easy way Pontifex slipped in the term of endearment, and Emile's chest fluttered with a lightness he'd never quite felt before. "I uh- I was just-just-just-just mourning I ggggggggggguess." He managed to suppress his desire to flinch, he was so flustered his stutter was worse than normal, but it was about as true and still obfuscated a response he could give right now. It was strange, Emile was starting to fill up with an uncharacteristic giddiness he'd never felt before, and for the first time in a long time he was distracted from his own spiraling thoughts, the negative self-talk muted.

Speech