Basch fon Ronsenburg

[ Basch rises beside him, hands hovering against his hips. It's hard not to, with the way Olivine encourages every touch with one of his own. He should be more concerned. He's a monster, and an aimless, disgraced soldier from a far off land. He has nothing to offer, and shouldn't be bringing someone else down with them.

But -- it's hard to walk away, when that person looks at him like that. When he knows, deep in his bones, that right now Olivine needs him. Or at least someone, and he doesn't see anyone else stepping up. ]

No apologies [ He murmurs, tucking Olivine's disheveled hair behind his ear with surprising grace for his clawed hands. ] And your needs are no burden. Neither are your desires. I like making you happy. [ Which is...somehow still more vulnerable than he meant. ]

Any I am a good deal stronger half-transformed, for what it's worth. [ A thing that had worried him, but if Olivine is standing and insisting he was gently, he thinks it's alright. ]