Though he knows what's causing it, and he'd glimpsed the black at the edges of Ronan's eyes, it still sends a shock through Rhy to meet his gaze like that. He squeezes Ronan's fingers reflexively, perhaps a little too tight.

"I've told you before," he murmurs, loosening his grip to continue removing Ronan's clothes for him. With gentle, methodical movements, he pulls Ronan's shirt from his shoulders, reaches for his belt.

"You can't kill me."

He'd give Ronan what he needed, if only he knew how. He doesn't. Ronan has to take it -- but Rhy already knows he won't, that he considers it too high a risk. There's nothing he can do but offer.