[Now now, he just had to learn to divorce the opinion of someone from their backside. After all, he could comment that he's curious if Emet-Selch's is any good, except he has all that bunching and heavy materials of his robes blocking the view. Can't make a proper opinion, there. It isn't like the Ascian hangs around them when they need to make camp as they move through the worlds - they've all had to learn to deal with one another when it comes to those moments, but he's pretty sure they've all snuck looks at one another.
If he had known anything about those gloves, or the hands beneath, he might have... well. Would it have stopped him or encouraged him? Even Sigr couldn't be sure. As it is, he leans more into the touch, letting the low rumble of sound start to come from him. It's not quite a proper purr, like the far smaller cousin of a Hrothgar could manage or even a Miqo'te's. It's deeper, more in his chest than his throat.
He didn't mind being a distraction, right now.
A curled ear flicked back as Emet-Selch leaned in, hearing the change in the distance between them. No, instead, Emet-Selch got his chance to take in Sigr's own scent. Minty, of course, but there was also just a touch of smoke about him (small surprise when he was a mage of the dark arts) combined with a raw warmth that came from being a large furred cat. There was also something sweet, different than the mint... which came from his love of sweet things that provided the necessary energy for a mage.]
It's my little secret. [Completed by a silly wink.] Only my friend and I know. Maybe I could retire selling it, someday, but for now... I like having the plushest fur of all the Hrothgar.
<3~
If he had known anything about those gloves, or the hands beneath, he might have... well. Would it have stopped him or encouraged him? Even Sigr couldn't be sure. As it is, he leans more into the touch, letting the low rumble of sound start to come from him. It's not quite a proper purr, like the far smaller cousin of a Hrothgar could manage or even a Miqo'te's. It's deeper, more in his chest than his throat.
He didn't mind being a distraction, right now.
A curled ear flicked back as Emet-Selch leaned in, hearing the change in the distance between them. No, instead, Emet-Selch got his chance to take in Sigr's own scent. Minty, of course, but there was also just a touch of smoke about him (small surprise when he was a mage of the dark arts) combined with a raw warmth that came from being a large furred cat. There was also something sweet, different than the mint... which came from his love of sweet things that provided the necessary energy for a mage.]
It's my little secret. [Completed by a silly wink.] Only my friend and I know. Maybe I could retire selling it, someday, but for now... I like having the plushest fur of all the Hrothgar.