[ It's becoming something of a ritual for them, Keita thinks—Seimei saying something silly and self-deprecating, and Keita smiling and reminding him that he finds Seimei absolutely wonderful regardless. There's a familiarity to the back-and-forth that sets him at ease, even if he does wish that Seimei would come to believe him one of these days. ]

I can't imagine ever being afraid of you, [ he says in return, pinching the tip of Seimei's ear before letting his hand drop again. ] And being eaten by you would hardly be objectionable.

[ It speaks to Keita's affection for Seimei, too, that he doesn't even look too abashed about saying something so openly erotic. Or at least he intended it to be so, although as ever, Keita's sense of the erotic is several decades behind most and he wouldn't be surprised if it didn't quite land.

His thoughts are distracted from their conversation entirely when he feels the sensation of magical phantom hands caressing the sensitive skin below his waistcoat. The touch is a familiar one, very nearly just like Seimei's, and isn't alarming, but it does make it difficult for Keita to focus on their game. ]

Is there a crown among the possible prizes?

[ A wry question, before Keita pats Seimei's butt and moves forward to pull the roulette wheel for himself. It spins, clatters... and lands on a 2, for which Keita is offered the rousing prize of a bottle of chocolate syrup. He looks at it for a moment, then back up at Seimei with a furrow of disbelief between his brows. ]

Are you meant to lick this off me, then?