Some of the tension drains out of him as Iago presses him up against the chair, and his hands sink into Iago's hair, himself both relaxing and pressing into his body. "Now I've made you sad," he sighs into him, as quietly, stroking through his hair. "Sumimasen. We were having fun. But I... I feel this way, when I'm from you, and..." he twists a sad smile against Iago's skin. "It just burst through, suddenly, ne." His hands slip to Iago's collar, grip the shirt below it, and he looks up at him with his eyes on the wide side, but anxiously crinkled. "And I don't want to be hiding from you, Iago-san. I thought... I thought my hearth would want me to be able to rest on him without a mask on. And I want that."
He makes an effort to get closer (very difficult, since Iago is holding him tight enough that closer would involve merging skins), and admits in a small voice, "I haven't been being very priestly, ne. But it's all right, isn't it? To spend more attention on fighting him, when he might come back any time?"
He shivers convulsively again, hands clasping at Iago tightly. "But maybe it's not so good. Maybe, I should... would Ivonka-san be very terrible to deal with if I came back to the pub a little? Parts of the days? I don't want to talk to anybody!" he adds suddenly, looking up at him with slightly wild eyes that don't, in the next sentence, spill over, but do get shiny. "But I hate being away from you all day, Giasan, it's so... dismal. And the cold grows."
He tries to press closer again. "I keep thinking what he might do," he says, right into Iago's chest. "I'm trying to make happiness, to make this place taste bad to him, but making horror is his strongest point, and I have a heart now. Iago-san, I couldn't stand it if..." Trailing off, he tries to shiver his way into Iago's body. He catches himself, and says in the small voice again, "Gomen, ne. I shouldn't say something like that to a soldier."