Ice cream would be terrible for this environment and even worse back home. Something thicker would-- [Oh. Oh no he refuses to start a sentence like that.] Things that don't run as much would probably be better, at least to begin with.

[That champagne thought is absolutely on the table for later.

He very much can take a hint though, keenly aware that the angle Sypha has placed herself at is not an invitation but an expressed request. The hand that is on her thigh squeezes as he presses a soft kiss to where neck and shoulder meet, then lingers on that same spot with tongue.]