[ luckily for Aether, the gratitude is meant with a knowing nod, and he says nothing else about it. there's something about Aether that's always been a little effortless, and something refreshing to see that he can be just as awkward as anyone else from a simple, kind gesture.

the jacket reaches the back of Aether's knees, the decorative chains clinking together when he moves – it doesn't look good on him at all, but there's something amusing about Aether swimming in the heavy layers of fur-lined leather. ]

I'll take the award for that. "Wettest stronghold in Teyvat," how about it? I'll hang it on a plaque in my office.

[ after a circle of the little cave, he finds a place to hunker down. he did have to scope the place out, of course: know the exits, the layout, and where the best sitting places were. the blanket is still over his shoulders, and he's got a weak cup of tea in his hand. Aether's here poking at him, and he can't say that he's not enjoying himself. while he usually likes the comfort of Meropide, he can't say that it isn't good to stretch his legs a bit.

(that little, lost boy will thank him.) ]

The snow's not letting up for a while. Here, I made your blanket warm.

[ there's a big man over here with a warm blanket, Aether. ]

What, still don't trust me? I might bite.