As well as ever is the kind of answer Noct has now become accustomed to receiving; it doesn't say much but it still says enough. Noct himself has found sleep to be far less of a comfort since his return, even if it still remains one of his few escapes. He knows Ignis never took well to dreams even before Noctis disappeared and the world as they knew it went with him, and so now, when nightmares seem to come more frequently than ever, he can't possibly rest easy during their nights.
Though it doesn't slip Noct's mind to imagine Ignis sleeps better now that Noct has returned again. He may not have noted it himself, always the first one to fall to sleep and the last one to rise, but it only makes sense.
In the end, what all this means in the practical sense is that Noctis should focus on the coffee, the lifeblood that will get them both going after even the worst dark and clinging dreams. He pours in the water and sets the machine to start before turning to Ignis and striding back to his side again, smile a near ever-present thing when Ignis is being so... careful. And he knows it has to do with his need not to bother, not to appear helpless or unprofessional, even now; that part hurts a little, because the idea that he could possibly bother Noct is unthinkable. But for the most part, he's endeared to an immeasurable degree, because it's simply so Ignis. He'll never change, really. Nothing like sight could ever touch who he is.
"Ew," is the low reply to the idea of unexpected crunches, but the evidence of the smile he wears doesn't escape his voice. He swirls the eggs a little, looking closely for anything that shouldn't be in the mixture, but there's nothing to find. "All clear."
He lets his fingers slide over the back of Ignis's hand after he trades off the whisk again, the tips of his fingers mapping out knuckles and tendons and prominent veins lightly. Maybe he's impressed by what they've done so far, maybe he's just so drawn to touch that he can't help himself. He turns his head to look up at Ignis.
"I'm happy to help."
Which Ignis must know, but it seems worth putting in such terms, frank and sincere.
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Though it doesn't slip Noct's mind to imagine Ignis sleeps better now that Noct has returned again. He may not have noted it himself, always the first one to fall to sleep and the last one to rise, but it only makes sense.
In the end, what all this means in the practical sense is that Noctis should focus on the coffee, the lifeblood that will get them both going after even the worst dark and clinging dreams. He pours in the water and sets the machine to start before turning to Ignis and striding back to his side again, smile a near ever-present thing when Ignis is being so... careful. And he knows it has to do with his need not to bother, not to appear helpless or unprofessional, even now; that part hurts a little, because the idea that he could possibly bother Noct is unthinkable. But for the most part, he's endeared to an immeasurable degree, because it's simply so Ignis. He'll never change, really. Nothing like sight could ever touch who he is.
"Ew," is the low reply to the idea of unexpected crunches, but the evidence of the smile he wears doesn't escape his voice. He swirls the eggs a little, looking closely for anything that shouldn't be in the mixture, but there's nothing to find. "All clear."
He lets his fingers slide over the back of Ignis's hand after he trades off the whisk again, the tips of his fingers mapping out knuckles and tendons and prominent veins lightly. Maybe he's impressed by what they've done so far, maybe he's just so drawn to touch that he can't help himself. He turns his head to look up at Ignis.
"I'm happy to help."
Which Ignis must know, but it seems worth putting in such terms, frank and sincere.