Convincing Confessions?

[Raffe]

He was happy just to lay there, pressed close, rocking on the edge of falling back asleep. It was the feeling of menace rather than the fact Nox sat up which finally drew him out of slumber. That was going to take some getting used to. 

Raffe pushed up too, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. He blinked a little before he really registered the prosthetic, and mostly found himself staring at the skin revealed when Nox pulled off his shirt before he eventually wrenched his attention to the wound. Or what was left of it, which was to say nothing, even in the soft shadows of the ball of light.

“They did a better job on you than Ilya’s girls did on me.” He grinned. The marvels of the Custody’s favour he guessed, and he was glad for it. There was no way Nox would have been able to take it easy long enough for it to heal naturally, and Raffe didn’t wish the mangle of his own scars on another. “I can go hunt and gather?” he offered. He’d felt shit himself afterwards, and ravenously hungry, though it’d been painful to swallow. He rubbed his eyes again, yawned. Okay, okay. Awake. And he should probably move before crawling into the other man’s lap began to sound more and more like a good idea. “If that’s the show, what was the ask?”