[ Sylvain just snickers from above him, trying to maneuver around the strange wings he's still assuming are part of the other man's costume for the night. He'd felt those scars - even suspects he can guess the source, just because he's so familiar with such things - but he doesn't comment on them. Just lets his fingers continue to work at trying to loosen the knots enough that they can start freeing themselves.

He seems... surprisingly adept at doing it so far, like this isn't the first time he's worked with such knots. ]

I'm glad you stopped yourself there because I was gonna have to argue with you. Vehemently. [ Then again, the bedroom has always been a battlefield for him. He could probably count on his fingers the number of times it hadn't been, and still have digits left over when he was done. ]

But you don't have to apologize. Truly, the fault was mine. Had it been any other morning, I would have been happy to indulge in a lazy morning in bed with some entertaining company. So it looks like I'll have to take you up on that raincheck.

How's that? Is it loose enough for you to move your head yet?