[ This also rings familiar in ways he wishes it didn't when Sylvain tells them he will be fine, like that somehow counters anything he or Hilda said, and that by mentioning it's not real it feels a bit like saying this doesn't matter. But it does, Claude wants to say. Instead he bites the edge of his tongue to keep the words from flying out of his mouth - a wise choice when Sylvain goes right back to looking for crystals like nothing at all happened.
It doesn't keep Claude from staring at the other man's back for a long moment before looking to Hilda with his brows furrowed since he has a feeling she's not going to like this any more than he does. But there's limited ways to go from here when it feels like Sylvain's all but shut a door on this - to both of them, even as a bird overhead says something he could've sworn was in Hilda's voice before it leaves that only his subconscious catches. ]
Don't touch them without gloves or you might dye your hands a new color.
[ Is what he finally says in the most half-hearted way with the barest attempt to make that sound anywhere close to his usual joking. Claude begrudgingly crouches down next to shuffle some dirt this way and that in what is absolutely not actual work in retrieving anything and despite his curiosity from before, glances to Hilda in a signal to go with what's about to come out of his mouth until they have a better chance to talk later. An old trick from too many meetings with stuffy nobles, and one he hopes will work. ]
So... that story Seteth wrote. Was it about Ignatz?
[ Somewhere Ignatz is frowning and Claude feels no regrets. ]
no subject
It doesn't keep Claude from staring at the other man's back for a long moment before looking to Hilda with his brows furrowed since he has a feeling she's not going to like this any more than he does. But there's limited ways to go from here when it feels like Sylvain's all but shut a door on this - to both of them, even as a bird overhead says something he could've sworn was in Hilda's voice before it leaves that only his subconscious catches. ]
Don't touch them without gloves or you might dye your hands a new color.
[ Is what he finally says in the most half-hearted way with the barest attempt to make that sound anywhere close to his usual joking. Claude begrudgingly crouches down next to shuffle some dirt this way and that in what is absolutely not actual work in retrieving anything and despite his curiosity from before, glances to Hilda in a signal to go with what's about to come out of his mouth until they have a better chance to talk later. An old trick from too many meetings with stuffy nobles, and one he hopes will work. ]
So... that story Seteth wrote. Was it about Ignatz?
[ Somewhere Ignatz is frowning and Claude feels no regrets. ]