blessed by his hands

Akito sits, his tail curling around his legs as he stares into the fire. He doesn't watch Vidarr so much as just simply notices the viking. There is a sense of care and fatherly devotion to the man's movements that nearly has Akito feeling jealous. But the man is not actually his father so he cannot resent Vidarr. Instead, he respects Vidarr and all he does because the man doesn't have to try and include him.

Watching as Vidarr pours a cup full of mead, Akito doesn't hesitate to drink from it. As he sputters, he also laughs and lets his head shake lightly. "This size looks good on me, no?" Akito responds, a smirk lighting his lips. A show of emotion that he saves for only his closest circle. While he had come here to ask Vidarr how life in Boreas was going, he had a feeling the conversation was going elsewhere. The thoughts in his head lingered on topics he didn't feel comfortable asking Hattori. The Kaicho was much too serious to understand the flooding of hormones and confusion that fill him, nearly suffocating him.

"I am well," Akito starts, taking another hearty sip of the mead. It stings his throat, but he forces himself to not cough. He wasn't weak. "I met Maki recently. She is nice, sweet," he pauses. "I also met a Hallows girl. Do you know Artorias? Her name is Clove, she's one of Artorias' daughters," another pause, an inhale of breath, a sip of mead. "I'm terrible with girls. I'm terrible at talking. I'm pretty sure this is the most talking I've ever done in my life," sighing, he glances over at Vidarr and realizes how much the mead has gotten to him. "What do I do?" He ends it, clutching the cup tighter in his paw as he turned to look back at the fire.