Jean-Claude's voice draws Jon's gaze like a lure. Jon is briefly mesmerized watching Jean-Claude effortlessly manage the thick, sleek weight of his hair, the way it shines and slithers through his fingers. The thought of him touching Jon's hair like that is shockingly appealing. Jon looks away, and toys with the end of his braid draped against his shoulder.

"I should largely be able to deal with them myself," Jon says awkwardly, reassuring himself more than Jean-Claude. Ever since Jon had destroyed the Dark's blasphemous sun, the other avatars had been quite leery of him. Otherwise he would have never considered endangering Jean-Claude's home with his presence, regardless of Jean-Claude's own resources.

But the idea of telling Jean-Claude... everything, being able to rely on him, trust him—it sends a frisson of something down Jon's spine. Fear mingled with desire. Being tied together felt so weighty, but the thought of being bound to something other than the Eye was dangerously comforting.

"Yes," he murmurs softly in affirmation.