There's a lot to discuss-- like what this is, where it's going, how the fuck he'd explain it to the others. There's Metaari's place in the Inquisition, too, whether he's willing to work for a cause greater and more dangerous than any mercenary job, or if he'll be on his way once the festivities are done. It's all there, waiting for time and sobriety, but the bubble is closing around them again-- the secret place they go where time halts and everything stops mattering.

Merrick kisses back, wobbling a little on his tiptoes, relying on Metaari to support him. As always his kisses are deep, devouring, fevered. He bites down whenever he feels it's unexpected, keeping Metaari on his proverbial toes.