[ Ah. He came right out with the truth of it, did he. Urianger turns his head slightly back in Thancred's direction, but not so much as to actually look at him. He feels that flop in the pit of his stomach again. Excitement. Trepidation. It does make him blush, and no, he can't even consider it foreplay. It's nothing more than the bookish Elezen's inability to know precisely what he ought to do in this situation. Moenbryda had always taken the lead; so had Thancred during their prior trysts. Isn't that enough? Or, again, should he be considering this instance unusual somehow? And should that make him pause and think this over?

His cheeks are burning at their peak when he finally turns back to his friend. Really, he's too old to be so bashful about these things. As much of a nerd as he is, he isn't a child nor some sort of shut-in. Perhaps it's the choice of location in this instance. This is still a public place, as deserted as it is at this hour. ]

Be thy intention to mischief me so mercilessly, Thancred...?

[ His voice is soft and quiet, cognizant as he is of their current location, and still flushed pink from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears. Despite the demure tone of his voice, he reaches out to gently peel Thancred's hand away from his face, claiming his fingers between his own again, as his other hand carefully cups the side of his jaw. ]

I ask not to frustrate thy desires. Merely to reassure myself of thy present intentions.

[ Specifically, his inebriated state. Combined with how impatient he is in getting to the point — it should be of some concern, shouldn't it? At least, enough to ask and be sure. As Urianger gazes down at him with concern, he pulls him closer, inviting him into an embrace. Being in the First hasn't been particularly good for any of them, but perhaps the least for Thancred. Urianger knows this. He wants to provide him some relief, and receive the same relief in turn, but... not at a cost. ]