It is with a measured slowness--telegraphing as not to spook the wild thing that exists in this elezen's body, that Gaius reaches up to card the bared fingers of his unwrapped right hand though Estinien's pale hair.

"No trade," he agrees. The heat under his skin is unbearable now -- he just wants this man on his back, around him, clinging to him as they both take shelter from the storm together. It's a damned foolish thought, but Gaius indulges it for half a second anyway. "Just -- whatever we have, for as long as we have it. The same rules as before-- if it pleases you, we can do it again. If it doesn't, you must tell me. Is that alright by you, dragoon?"