Wait, Iris' mind supplies, perhaps dumbly, what?

None of that actually leaves his mouth though, which is certainly a good thing considering he's a sitting duck as he is, and drawing any attention to himself now would just be foolish. Sure, yes, he's still technically in some shadow, but it's nowhere near as comforting as Wilhelm's shadow had been. What else is he to do, but press his back to the wall and hold onto that wine bottle for dear life?

(If they do get caught, it probably wouldn't be so bad. No one could be worse than the Madam, or so Iris' fears tell him.)

By the time Wilhelm returns to Iris' side, he is on full on Pout Mode.

"Not cool," he hisses, reaching out to grab at Wilhelm's shirt to draw the other boy closer into his space. He still isn't entirely sure how these shadow powers work, but as far as he can tell, close is safe. Close is also... quite close, though. Iris' hand flexes over fabric, and his mind chooses this time to remind him how Wilhelm's hand had felt gripping his waist, or what the sound of his heartbeat felt like against the faint press of his ear.

So maybe neither of them are very good at this forethought thing.