Hug!

She giggles into chest, delighted.

It's so pretty!! He's so happy about seeing her smile. She adores how personally invested he is in her delight, it's wonderful.

Hug. Hug hug hug!

Giggly cuddly hug!

Yes! That!

Eventually she pulls back enough to look at him instead of giggling on him. "You're - not what I expected. I mean - besides the - the obvious, anyway."

"Oh?"

"You're ridiculously talented, you're way better at being nice than I would have ever expected, and you - you light up every time I smile."

"I like it when you smile."

"You do! I can tell! You broadcast this opinion very well!" Snuggly hug.

Eee snuggly hug. Best kind.

She giggles a little, snuggling him. Then her Princessly Sense Of Decorum kicks in, and she notices that this hug has probably gone on a little too long for propriety. She - notes how absurd this thought is, she's in a dragon's fucking castle, she can clearly do whatever she wants, who cares what is decorous or not, but - the thought niggles at her. Habits are a bit hard to break.

Saveth squeezes him, then gently steps away and smiles at him.

"This feels a little like I'm living in a dream, you realize," she says, a little fondly.

"So what I'm hearing is that you'd like this room."

... She cracks up.

"Yes. Yes, I'd like this room."

He beams at her.

"I was talking more about the situation than the room, but yes, I do like the room, I'll be happy to stay in the pretty landscape waterfall room."

"Then you can do that! The lights change, look—" and he shows her a little turnkey on a little post next to the bed, placed to be comfortably within reach of someone lying down: the little clock-hand currently points to a round yellow sun made of coloured glass, with a little magelight shining behind it, but there's a silvery moon next to it and a scatter of pinpoint stars in the third position. He clicks it over to the next picture, the little magelight moves appropriately, and the sun overhead becomes a full moon, shining silver behind the thin stone clouds; again, and the moon is dark and the ceiling-dome dotted with tiny stars that only barely illuminate the room; and then back around to the sun, which returns as bright as ever.

She laughs, delighted.

"You're a ridiculous show off. A really talented one, with fantastic ideas and better execution of them. So I guess you've earned it."

"I can't imagine how I would've managed to make it eight thousand years without learning something about how to move rocks around unless I was a rock myself."

Giggle. "If you didn't have any interest in moving rocks around, maybe? Or didn't care if you lived in a dingy cave? Or if you didn't have a good sense of aesthetics and weren't interested in improving how things looked past a baseline threshold, even if you could move rocks around? There are more explanations available here than 'is a rock,' anyway."

"You learn a lot of things in eight thousand years, even if they're not things you're interested in for their own sake!"

"Okay, but do you have a similar mastery of, of - of cake decoration, what about ice sculptures, or glass blowing?"

"I'm good at making things." He holds out a flicker of red light that becomes a delicate pink rose sculpted from perfectly clear ice with just a hint of colour.

She looks at the rose, then looks at Zekanare.

Then she throws up her arms in surrender. "Fine! Fine, given enough time and personal inclination I guess you just get a pass for being good at making things! You ridiculously talented, absurdly magical, gleefully cheating..." She searches for the appropriate noun for him, then finally grumpily settles on, "dragon." Huff. "You realize this means I will be terribly disappointed in you if you ever make anything that isn't considered gorgeous."

He giggles.

"I was all set to give you reasonable expectations, but no, you went and were great at many things. Now you get to have high expectations, and you'll be expected to meet them," she sniffs.

"Seems reasonable enough to me."