Moonspear tell me again how rome burned

"ok." he murmurs when vela responds that she'd want to be exclusive. soo ...that was it, then? drogon wonders. they were boyfriend and girlfriend? drogon's not good at talking about his feelings ( a trait he no doubt, inherited from his father ). "we're exclusive." he affirms, deep baritone of whisky steeped in smoke a soft rasp as he speaks the words.

vela tells him that her father isn't always authoritative and drogon offers her a soft twitch of his lips into a ghost of a smile. "not to you," the ansbjørn reminds her. "he's your father first and alpha second. he's just my alpha. i don't think i need to remind you that you're his daughter and i'm the boy that lo-—," he chokes on the word, realizing last second what's about to freely tumble from betwixt his lips without the filter between his brain and mouth he's never really bothered to use. "likes you." he doesn't want to scare her off by being too candid about his suspicions of what it means that he's so easily consumed by her (happily so!).

"it's your day to pick what we do, i'll gladly follow along with whatever you want to do." drogon assures her, gently guiding her into making a decision on how they spend their time together. honestly, as long as he's spending time with her he truly didn't care how it was spent.