There is a part of him - the part that underwent so much training, so many lessons, knowledge pressed down again and again on what it means to be Noctis's retainer, his companion, his guard and secretary and everything else - that imagines he should perhaps draw a line here. That he should consider how things should be to make Noctis's life easier in the long run, and how his retainer being romantically entangled does the opposite.

But that isn't the rest of him. The him who grew up alongside Noct. The him who held him close from the first day he ever met him as a child, and decided his whole was already his. Who hugged him whenever he got upset he couldn't see his father, and bit through his own lip when he heard Noct was in an accident, and celebrated every single birthday of his together no matter anything else.

The him who looked at Noct as they grew into young men together, and had already settled into adoring quiet love that would give him the world, if he ever asked of it. Who'd been so relieved that Prompto came into Noct's life, because it looked as though finally someone could make him happy and it clearly hadn't been Ignis for quite some years.

Ignis closes his eyes for a moment. Gladio was right. If it's even remotely in his power to give...

Even as Noct starts to loosen his own grip, retreat in uncertainty, Ignis doesn't quite allow him. If anything, his own grip tightens to make up for the slack, pulling it right back again. Back and up, twisting Noct's hand until his wrist is bared to the sky.

Bared to Ignis's lips, brushing against and pressing down at the thin skin there.

"Thank you," he murmurs.