All things considered, it is a very practical sort of discussion on both sides, and it's only for the briefest of moments that he reconsiders his approach. This was hardly the first time he has thought to say something, but for all that he claims to be a free spirit, for all that he allows himself to be moved by music and poetry, spontenaeity had failed him on each and every occasion. Whether it was because the moment felt wrong or he had lost his nerve, he could never quite say, but for a time, it had seemed like he might not allow himself to say anything at all if he kept on as he was.

Putting such an offer on the table like this was perhaps not the most romantic, but at least they were talking about things. About them, about this undefined thing that had been allowed to grow between them, that had persisted despite their hardships and his own failures.

He listens patiently, his fingers curled gently around his own cup as he lowers his hand from his heart, and once she has finished, he gives a single nod, a reserved show of understanding.

"I... did not know how to begin such a conversation," he confesses, and a smile gently pulls at one side of his mouth. In this moment, he is unpolished, graceless. "Before we left Viscint, I had worried it would be unwise to do so, for your sake."

Not everyone in Elde Menancia had agreed with his way of doing things, though he hadn't known then how deep that unrest had run. To show his affection for the Dahnan captain of his guard— he cared not what people thought of him, but it might have put her at great risk.

After that, of course, things had changed. He wouldn't have blamed her if she'd chosen to never give him a second glance, but that she still held him in such high regard now... he had known, of course, been almost certain, or he wouldn't have said something in the first place, but neither of them seemed particularly prepared to approach the subject directly at any point.

"A great deal has changed since then." Including himself. "How I feel has not."