"I might have been talking about a bed," Ganymede teases, though he's fully aware Armand can tell what he'd meant when he said it. It's strange, getting used to the idea of his thoughts being so easily heard like the words of a podcast, but....Armand is a friend. And he hides very little from his friends, once he has them. "But it's good to know."

Once they step out onto the balcony in the open air, the weight and compression of having seen his own face staring back at him seems to lessen, and he pulls a slim cigarette case out of his pocket, offering it out. The cigarettes inside are very clearly hand-rolled and a faintly sweet smell comes with them: matches are lit with a neat little one-handed trick, offering the flame out. Ganymede relaxes slowly, entirely, once the first thin ripple of smoke passes through his lips, and he tosses his head just in time to see Armand come up close, head tilting.

He tilts his own the other way out of habit, staring into those captivatingly sunset-orange eyes, leaning in without realizing it until Armand looks back up to his eyes, when he almost loses his balance and takes a tiny half-step forward to catch himself. "Oh," he laughs, absolutely amused at the easy play, "You live for far more than that."

Ganymede glances out to make sure no one is directly looking at them before he tugs Armand in for a playful, short kiss, laughing as they separate again.

"Like that."