“To think?” Kris tried to shake his head and discovered that made the ground shift a little more than he liked. He settled for folding down to sit right up next to Harry, liking the warmth of the other man. “I’d come here to /not/ think, I think. Did that even make sense? Is this being drunk? Cause I’m not sure I like it. I mean, I like you, but I’m not sure about the whole rest of thisssshit.”
Kris flopped backwards, bouncing his head off the grass, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please tell me I did not just say that.”
Hal was not so accustomed to being so close, he shifted slightly to give a bit of distance though he turned to him when he spoke. “Words you speak would make sense if a person was drunken.” He replied with a short smile. He paused, wondering what in fact..he meant by his words; perhaps it was the cups of ale that were talking to him. He laughed lightly, tilting his head. “You are a strange one, indeed. Though; most everybody is strange in their own slights. What do you mean by your words? Come, tell me.” He said gently, but straight forward—being a bit of a habit.
“What say you? Though..I am not sure on what you wanted, or perhaps did not want to say.” The prince replied again, looking outward.
“Oh, gods,” Kris groaned. “You /asked/ me this, Harry, so no hitting. I like you. I mean, not just friendly ‘like to spend time with you’, more like sexual ‘like to undress you and make you unravel beneath my touch’. And now we’re just going to forget I said any of that, and mark it up to your never-to-be-sufficiently-damned ale.” He cracked one eye, watching Harry. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t get beaten up over this stupidity.