[ It's a line, Claude thinks even as he grins at the feeling of fingers in his hair and a familiar back and forth banter they've honed leading up to now. Of course it is, and yet.

Yet it pulls again on what he'd set aside in all that fondness he shouldn't let in. It gets harder and harder to remember to not when hearing that, something that'll stick in the endless swamp of his mind to resurface just like all the other times he's meant to let it sink away with other thoughts. Here and now it's difficult to remember why that is, and Claude feels himself coming dangerously close to wanting to.

But that wouldn't be playing the game, would it? Better to lean into it and be in on - whatever it is he won't let himself define as anything but whatever they both see this as as it's been for months. ]

In that case, I think I'm flattered I overrode your sensibilities. Hard to think of a better compliment than that one right there.