"Why w'ld I ever have 'nough of you?" Esteban asks him in an exuberant hug. The wings are curled tightly around him, and radiate as much warmth as the smile perched on his lips. He is quite content to stay just like this, but there are words on his tongue, follow-up to his sentence that weighs more than he usually says. They are out of his mouth before he can think to stop them.

"B'sides. Never know when it's gonna be the last time."

There's a heartbeat, too loud, too loud in his ears, before Esteban turns his head, leaning it onto Seto's shoulder, even as he refuses to let his companion go. His eyes close, burrowed in the small comfort of his friend's sturdy presence, as he corrects.

"Shit-- I didn't mean t' say that 'loud." It's not Seto's burden to bear. "It's not-- y' shouldn't--" Urgh, words. They stumble and clutter at his throat, a dash of too much honesty and a bite of too little control that hits him harder now.

Darn it-- it had been fun before, but not this. So Esteban turns to something different; another thought-- straying, lighter.

"Y'r coat really looks nice on you!" Cheekiness returns to his tone, voice lilting lightly against the white, well-tailored fabric. "Y'got a great sense 'f fashion. Not my style, but it suits you!" Sharp edges and clean lines. And lots of belts. He snickers at this, barely giving Seto any room to breathe, though his hug isn't quite as bone-crushing as it was a minute ago. There is hope for Seto's lungs after all.