"Okay," he coos, leaning down to steal a peck on the lips, squeezing Vax's hands.

Fjord trots over to the bed and launches himself onto it backwards, bouncing onto his side where he arranges himself with his chin in a hand. He pats the blankets, looking about as playful as he usually doesn't; it isn't often Fjord is so comfortable with a person that he stops trying to be cool.

"I'm waiting, Mister Vessar."