[ There’s a moment of absolute silence from behind him as Sylvain finishes the healing spell. And then Sylvain is choking on a laugh as Wriothesley’s words convey a mental picture that… well, he hadn’t really needed that visual, but thanks for it anyway. ]

So you were nesting, basically, and this was some possessive mark gone wrong. Am I basically getting that right?

[ That sounds so ridiculous, but with the weird instincts that had been running rampant through all that, it wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened, he was certain. Not by a long shot.

Still, he grins and lightly jabs Wriothesley in the back of the shoulder. ] All better, I think. And you still have the mark there to brag about. When you stop being embarrassed about it, apparently.