He can't help a brief, affectionate chuckle, at the declaration of forgiveness. The sound is absent any challenge or mockery, only denoting an enchanted audience to Rafal's shifts of mood. Difficult? Not really. Just different, charming in ways not everyone would understand.
Does Alear also spoil him too much? Maybe, but they're both happy about it; there's no harm, so it isn't going to stop.
"I'll make sure not to re-offend," he says, playing along. The penitent soul, thankful for gracious treatment.
There's a strange jolt when Rafal releases him, internal recoil as if a strained tether had suddenly snapped, rebalancing weight onto those which remain. Regret, but alsoβ¦a shiver of relief? No, that's silly, why would he be relieved for the end of a loving embrace?
They're just aligned in the wish to gaze at each other, face to face. That's what it is. Alear isn't glad to be separated, but for the chance to rest adoring eyes upon his partner. Obviously.
It's common truth that everyone is biased, to consider their other half the most beautiful person in the world. He's fairly sure Rafal actually is, though. A sight to behold, and looking back at Alear in a manner which speaks poetic volumes: secure in the knowledge they're both exactly where they belong.
"Do you even need to ask? Just give me a moment."
Before his ambush, Alear had been considering the travel chest that was hauled around the continent with him (in spite of the stewards, who thought he should be travelling with twice as much luggage). He steps towards it now, kneels to raise the lid, and retrieves the bundle of carefully-wrapped gifts, each chosen to suit luxurious tastes.
Another jolt, a moment of hesitation. What is he doing, offering trinkets and sweets as if those are remotely acceptable tribute? He should have reports of conquest in the human kingdoms, tokens of slain enemies, priceless rings infused with otherworldly power, bowing his head in mute obedience as he waits for judgement-
What? No. This is a bright, serene sanctuary, not the crushing gloom of those temple halls. The one who holds audience here might wear a facade of lordly tyranny, when it suits him, but he carries Alear's heart with protective zeal. No harm will befall it.
Where are these thoughts intruding from? Alear shakes them off, resumes his task. Gathers the gifts, and takes a seat beside Rafal, intending to interweave the presentation of each item with tales of the region it came from. Understanding that, while 'payment' is in the same line as 'business', lacking appropriate sentiments, it's essential for Rafal to have a sense of pride and purpose. To know that Alear trusts in his strength, and loyalty, and judgement. To feel appreciated for his true worth.
"I mentioned I'd be going to Solm first. That's where I picked up honey candies for you, but I had to run around a few different stalls, because they've got a new trend for putting chilli on them. I thought you'd prefer the classic version." And so he begins, chatting about where exactly he went, who he met there, matters of state and meetings with old comrades.
He does spare some details, like running into that Brodian bishop who keeps introducing him to noble young women with an oddly hopeful air. That's not a Rafal-friendly topic.