J'mon chuckled softly, the sound perhaps a bit deeper than their normal voice seemed to allow. There was a heat that bloomed between them with that sound as well, the scent of hot metal kicking up just a notch. It wasn't just J'mon who felt the promise and tempting allure that came with it, but deep down inside Devo'ssa felt it too. It was, perhaps, straight to think of the dragon as an entirely different entity, but for all intents and purposes, it always had been. But when that voice, that presence, sensed something they desired, it was difficult to keep the two personas from colliding.
"And I do so love making you miss me," J'mon teased back. They slid a little closer to Gilmore, giving him more space to touch and explore as much as he wanted to. While speech may have been their truest gift, touch was their greatest indulgence. The two so often went hand-in-hand, it was difficult to separate them. Especially with someone as charming as Gilmore was. While they knew that there was a distinct difference between this Gilmore and the one they had gotten to know, it still felt as though they had picked up right where they had left off. And perhaps that was their mistake to make, it laid far too many expectations in Gilmore's lap. But he didn't seem terribly bothered by it.
But they were, at least partially, aware of what Gilmore had to resolve. By the time they'd met, the first time, he had seemed to have mostly processed it. But this Gilmore was from a much earlier time and he hadn't had the space to come to terms with certain losses. And J'mon wouldn't push. They would let Gilmore come to them when he was ready. And if all he wanted now was this close, soft tease, then that was what they would give to him. They trailed their fingers back into his hair and nuzzled his cheek gently. "There is so much to learn, too..." they murmured.
Slowly, softly, they brought their hand back around and leaned away just enough so they could watch Gilmore watching them and curled their hand in front of his face. Little at a time their nails elongated into talons and the pattern of brass scales ran down from their red-stained fingertips and up their forearm. The metallic shimmer over the rest of their skin grew a little more pronounced and they flicked a distinctly forked tongue out at him, just barely tasting his bottom lip.