[ For a man who spent so many years of his life keeping others at arms' length until it was time to let violence do the talking, Ragna's...actually done a remarkable job in adapting. By all accounts he should have never known what this kind of feeling was like for as long as he had left to live. Even then, the way he handles Mordred on top of his shoulders (a miracle he's putting up with this to begin with), is surprisingly gentle for just how harsh of a mouth he has. That doesn't mean he can't register how her legs feel beneath his larger touch. One wouldn't have guessed it by just looking at her, but there's some serious definition beneath what he imagines is a soft looking surface. Whilst she was contending with a particular pang in her stomach at being easily handled like this, Ragna is doing his best to ensure she keeps safe on his shoulders.

The less anybody brings attention to his actions, the better. He won't have to become Tsunderagna get snippy out of thin air. The moment he draws back once he can feel her righting herself, his mismatched hues drift up from between her legs, back to securely hooking her thighs as he catches the subtle traces of red in her cheeks. ...That's a new look on her. Flustering cheeks, blonde hair and vivid emerald eyes... ]

...

[ "... H-Hey, I think, the curse might be gone?" ]

Huh? [ ...come to think of it, she's only been mouthing off at him for the past couple minutes non-sexually now. ] Hey, you're right... Think it's some kinda proximity thing to that stupid chest? [ A beat. ] No...prolly just some shit that's worn off.

[ Great. Now they can threaten each other with a good time for real. ]