[Felix, please love and cherish him, despite his wiggles? Sleeping at 11pm is wild enough, but demanding he stay still in this tent that is not his very large and way more luxurious bed is silly! Is romance truly dead...?
Evidently, since some people aren't even sharing blankets like gentlemen. Constantin makes a noise of protest and does not stay still, moving in even closer to Felix not to grab for the edge of the blanket and pull it back but to squish his cheek against Felix's shoulder instead; please, take pity on him, he is in peril.]
Felix... Next you'll tell me to relax! Are you relaxed, in this infinitesimal scrap of a tent?
[He doesn't have to be nice to the tent, just Felix. The tent deserves his whining. Felix cannot escape said whining, however, especially not as Constantin slides an arm around him, under the traitor blanket. Indulge him...]
[There is so much room in this tent? God damn? And yet there is so little room left between them, as Constantin's arm snakes over his side, and—ah. What should be too much simply isn't, because Constantin is Constantin; like, there is a brief moment of surprise, but while Felix stiffens, Felix is quick to huff out a breath. Sir, take two...]
I would be. [Hmph!] You make it difficult.
[He is just sayin', thanks, and he shifts ever so slightly, one hand coming to rest atop Constantin's shoulder. He should shove Constantin away, perhaps; this would all be easier to deal with, were Felix to face the opposite direction, and yet, as he struggles to find that familiar face in the darkness:]
[Consider: don't push him? He will no doubt roll away theatrically and bring down the entire tent, possibly on purpose. Endure him and his clinging for the sake of the tent's integrity, thank you.]
Certainly not! Who would take me camping, besides you?
[Don't think too hard about it, just think of this as a fond privilege. It sort of is? He'd rather latch his octopus arms onto Felix in this tent more than anyone else...
So, he's never made anything difficult in his life, the end.]
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Evidently, since some people aren't even sharing blankets like gentlemen. Constantin makes a noise of protest and does not stay still, moving in even closer to Felix not to grab for the edge of the blanket and pull it back but to squish his cheek against Felix's shoulder instead; please, take pity on him, he is in peril.]
Felix... Next you'll tell me to relax! Are you relaxed, in this infinitesimal scrap of a tent?
[He doesn't have to be nice to the tent, just Felix. The tent deserves his whining. Felix cannot escape said whining, however, especially not as Constantin slides an arm around him, under the traitor blanket. Indulge him...]
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I would be. [Hmph!] You make it difficult.
[He is just sayin', thanks, and he shifts ever so slightly, one hand coming to rest atop Constantin's shoulder. He should shove Constantin away, perhaps; this would all be easier to deal with, were Felix to face the opposite direction, and yet, as he struggles to find that familiar face in the darkness:]
You've never shared a tent?
[He's never been hunting??? Wack.]
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Certainly not! Who would take me camping, besides you?
[Don't think too hard about it, just think of this as a fond privilege. It sort of is? He'd rather latch his octopus arms onto Felix in this tent more than anyone else...
So, he's never made anything difficult in his life, the end.]
Don't be cross.