[ it wouldn't be a classic FloRid™ outing if it didn't involve the both of them getting loud, one of them probably getting exasperated and slightly upset while the other just likes being loud for any reason that he's been given. either way, the one salvageable work of art that made it out without any real blemishes hangs proudly in floyd's room. critics agree that it was born from passion or something pretty close to it, and that it deserves its spot right next to the moray merch that's been accumulating.

but he has a good enough eye to know that... is goldfishie really skipping over some details? is he rushing? very interesting! how does floyd know this? just a guess. maybe a hopeful one at that. ]

Then it sounds like I got a normal brain, don't it~

[ fickle. moody. that's him. he'll cling onto something and then when something else comes along, he dives onto it. but those are those things that don't deserve a lot of attention in the first place; the few that he holds onto are rare, but... he can do it. he will do it.

and that's why those last words hit differently, causing floyd's heart to skip a beat. he really means it. that look riddle gives him? in the past, he might be caught off-balance by it. that he would be confused and almost intimidated by the nature of that warmth. but now? he embraces it. and it feels like riddle has done the same, so. that makes him... happy.

that hand in riddle's lap has been places and it returns to a comfortable and familiar place. back up and around the smaller boy, to curl it around him, wriggling behind riddle's upper back so that he can squeeze him against his side. ]

I already know what's important to me!~

[ he lets that moment sit for a second or two, before adding: ]

Anyway. When you're done with your notes, can I take a peek at 'em? Promise I won't make a copy or anythin'.

[ they'd probably fetch a few bucks... ]