[ There's a pout, and even when it's being directed at him, a fire amidst icier blues stirs something in the pit of his loins. Something that the Grim Reaper never really held much thought or stake on before. He never had the chance to. What did Ragna like in a woman? What could he not ignore? Nice breasts? A soft, curvy ass? All well and good, fleeting sentiments and appreciative; Ragna's thought of those before. And she feels more than nice beneath his larger hands. But it's the littler things. A disarming smile, laughter that made him want to seek it out again without even realizing it, this pout on her face while they both wish that the trio would piss off. They're all attractive to him. He can digest them later. Far later when he's still too enamoured with wanting to devour Weiss in the present.

To let themselves both be swallowed up in a rush of pleasure that he's afraid he might get addicted to. Is this what it feels like? Is this what he can't have?

Luckily for Weiss, Ragna is patient for her, if only because he's the one with far less experience here. And he knows where her ire currently is directed. How the hell do they shut them out? He almost wants to try punching them and seeing if his fist can actually pass through to literally knock them out. An isolated thought that doesn't dispel the mood or his drive for her, thankfully...and even more thankful with the fact that Weiss was already setting a plan in motion. Mismatched red and greens follow her, study her every little movement and slip as the cardigan slips off and makes her appear even tinier on top of him than before. With how lazily he's lounged back like this, it only sparks sinful thoughts further to the forefront at a new record pace.

What a contrast. Beautiful, yet with how riled up Weiss has driven up in following her lead as a dance partner, so desirable. Like he could give up everything else he knew in this one solitary moment as long as he could preserve her. Curiosity does raise that brow of his when Weiss warns him not to be scared. ]

What're you gonna—

[ That's when, like a conductor orchestrating her instruments, two snowflake-patterned Glyphs manifest as he cranes his head back. Just in time to see an ethereally glowing white bird flap out by her command. They're direct. There is no deviation when she tosses her cardigan at it before the sense of wonder in Ragna's eyes shifts. Especially when the cardigan is left draped over the painting of goddamn voyeurs. Ragna can't help himself, speaking quietly while she wraps up her seemingly magic handiwork with an almost rhetorical: ]

Ars Magus...? [ And should she catch that, he'll return the favour as his eyes are back on her. This time for good. ] And you can ask about that later.

[ They were like magic circles he'd witness home when various Ars Magus wielders would trigger spells. Luckily for Weiss, they didn't scare him in the slightest. In fact, they drew his curiosity. A curiosity he curbs when he arches his back once upon a heated sigh before letting himself completely recline again beneath her.

His smile his back too, his hands squarely on her soft and smooth thighs as she mounts him. She didn't have to do that...but something told him that it was just as much for her as it was for him. ]

And I've got the best seat in the house.

[ There you go, Ragna. Seems they both do, as his hands start roaming once more, strong, assertive, confident. Gliding higher up underneath the skirt of her dress before teasing towards the insides of her thighs, before ghosting back down once more. Speaking of that dress, as a hand that could wrap around her tiny waist smooths up the side of her body... ]

Where's the zipper?

[ Make this seat even sweeter. ]