[18:38] Styse He allows Fox to make the move allll the way in for the hug, simply lifting his arms off from his knees and wrapping them around the little fuzzball once he was close enough. Now with his escape route cut off within his grasp, Styse introduces Fox's muzzle to his ample and filled out chest, burying him deep between them. Perhaps unexpectedly, his touch was not chilling to the bone, but rather, it was just slightly below room temperature; this fact was still odd, since someone packed as densely with fur, fat, and muscle should be more like a pre-heated oven to touch, but alas, no answers would come as to why. It would be a little rude to ask why he was so cold, no?

One of his black hands gently kneads its palm down onto the scruff of Fox's neck, fingers possessively grasping at and pinching tufts of fur between them once his palm is settled. It was a slow, methodical movement, one that drew attention to it. To juxtapose this, his lips dart close to one of the dutiful pilot's ears, whispering sweet little words into it. "Aren't you just the sweetest little thing? I appreciate your gracious gift of warmth, dear." His lips then pressed to the side of Fox's head, vaguely puckering up into a silent, thankful kiss. The hug may have started unnaturally cold, but the two of them are quickly kindled into a roaring fire of heat from the exchange.

Temporarily. Styse's arms begin to droop away, like the sticks of a snowman melting off on a hot summer day. The more he deprived Fox of the connection of their bodies, the colder it seemed to get. Something was amiss, as this frigid temperature was as cold as a winter storm on a lonely night out. What exactly had transpired becomes more apparent as one of his hands comes into Fox's view to wipe his lips clean, the previous blackness actively receding up to his finger tips; to be replaced by a sickly blue, a dull purple, an unoxygenated red, and finally, a more lively skin tone that matched the rest of him. Even the paleness in his skin seemed to have vanished, overall looking significantly healthier.

"Really, I appreciate it. Goodnight, Fox. I would suggest a meal and a night off of your feet." He playfully boops his snoot, putting in just enough force to make the likely woozy and weakened Fox potentially stumble. Through it all, his knowing smile and half lidded gaze never so much as shifted. Fox agreed to more than he bargained for, but he would be fine! All he had to do was listen to the doctor's orders and take the night off.