Khajiit’s first approach to things tends towards wordsmithing, but the scraps of toxins still filtering through his veins make him more tactile. Fiero’s muzzle brushing against his feels good. Great, even, and his warm breath dances across the Marwari’s whiskers and sends a shiver rolling down his spine. He’d enjoyed the roughness of their first contact, the grit of their bodies clashing together, but this - this feather-light hint, barely there… this is where he thrives.

Every time the dun breaks eye contact, his smile grows. By the time the rolling, lilting words reach his ears, he’s wearing a cheshire grin wide enough to show the gleaming points of his canines. Khajiit holds his position; he waits, Fiero’s body heat and mare-laced scent filling the ever-decreasing space between them, and when he gets the explanation he wants he pulls back some, tucking his head to his black-speckled chest.

“I see,” he says appraisingly, expression suddenly unreadable.

Khajiit tilts his head at Fiero’s next question. He breathes out, one measured, gentle exhale, skin twitching where his brother’s tail glanced like stinging nettles against him. “Yes,” he answers, his tone light as it had been before, barely skimming the surface. His kohl-rimmed gaze wanders, surveying the muck and the mire they called home. “Plenty of space… great views…”

His eyes snap back to Fiero’s, tail cracking decisively against his hips. “Better company.

“Although it has been a bit… quiet, lately,” he admits, his ears folding briefly back atop his head. “Too quiet.” When he’d first washed ashore, Khajiit had enjoyed the silence, but now he wanted more… noise. More chaos. More brothers, more little trinkets like the hot-blooded shadow woman, more intrigue and more games and more chances to work his influence. More of all of it, and then some.

Crystalline eyes slide back to meet those of molten gold. “You seem… thoughtful,” Khajiit says, drawn once more to the blond man’s side. “Meticulous…” His muzzle grazes - gingerly, searchingly - over Fiero’s tiger-striped shoulder. “Determined to go for the things you want.

“But what is it, exactly, that you want?” His voice lifts, teasing blue irises glinting with renewed mischief. Point made, Khajiit eases pressure. “Do you know?”

If not, he wonders, would you like some help?