Oh gods, this is too much. Gyre flusters immediately, actually squeaking a little when the princess starts giggling like that. Those extremely pesky feelings rise up in his throat, his chest tightening into a knot. He feels like he can't speak at all suddenly, and he leans his forehead almost helplessly against the other's wrist.

It's been a long time since he felt like this. He's been practicing detachment for such a long time. He's supposed to be a ghost, but this whole week has grounded him in the world in such a disarming way.

There's a long, stunned silence here before he finally murmurs, "We do. I... Do you mean it?" He takes a breath, suddenly feeling like he's been keeping secrets. Luka's not a wild elf. He can't really know what he's saying, right?

"I'm not, alive," he says after another pause, as if to emphasize this fact. As if the princess doesn't know this already. As if he could impart the full weight of what that means culturally to him with just that one word.