( Another log is the due of it, and it doesn't cost him to bring one back, to Inigo's commentary. He snorts himself, at the comment about not all being direct. He knows it, and knows it eases the world in ways, but finds it obscures things too, to more often do the dancing around a point than cutting across to stating it. But it's a role he serves, and gladly, without bounds fewer people know to recognise.

The log is placed when he pointedly exhales at Inigo's hair again, the way he can ruffle hair like this when his wind control is suspect at best. )

Hearts aren't smart, Inigo. If they were, we'd spare ourselves so much trouble.

( He's aware enough of that, no matter what he doesn't say about it. )

Since at least one of us is direct, I want to hear the dumb things in your heart. I whine about whatever's in mine enough, in case you haven't noticed. You don't have to tell everything, or even anything. That's for you to decide, so I'm telling you this, so you know. I want to know all your dumb heart things. If and when you decide to share any of the rest of them.

( To which he nods his massive head, as if this is a decided conversation, but it is for him on this standpoint: he's said what he wants, if it's something Inigo can keep giving. Even if it ends up being more lamenting at how he's a dumbass dating a guy who refuses to say they're dating, and so he won't call it dating either, and Heavens Help Him for people's weird dating realities when they all thought his lack of any was somehow weirder. )